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IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


y 


A 


A' 


/ 


C/j 


1.0 


I.I 


III32 


IIM 

12.2 


■ 

"  1^  IIIIIM 


1.8 


1.25    \u 

1.6 

^ 6"    - 

► 

7, 


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Photographic 

Sciences 
Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  bf^^'ET 

WEBSTER,  NY.  14580 

(716)  872-4503 


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CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHM/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


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Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes/Notes  techniques  et  bibliographiques 


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D 


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Ce  document  est  filmd  au  taux  de  reduction  indiqu6  ci-dessous. 

10X  14X  18X  22X 


y 


26X 


30X 


12X 


16X 


20X 


24X 


28X 


32X 


» 

itails 
i  du 
odifier 
une 
mage 


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L'exemplaire  film6  fut  reproduit  grfice  d  la 
g6n6ro8it6  de: 

Bibliothdque  nationale  du  Canada 


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filmage. 

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dernidre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
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originaux  sont  filmds  en  commenpant  par  la 
premidre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration  et  en  terminant  par 
la  dernidre  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 

Un  des  symboles  suivants  apparaitra  sur  la 
dernidre  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
cas:  le  symbole  — ^  signifie  "A  SUIVRE",  le 
symbole  V  signifie  "FIN". 


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different  reduction  ratios.  Those  too  large  to  be 
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beginning  in  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  frames  as 
required.  The  following  diagrams  illustrate  the 
method: 


Les  cartes,  planches,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent  6tre 
film^s  d  des  taux  de  reduction  diffdrents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  dtre 
reproduit  en  un  seul  clich6,  il  est  filmd  d  partir 
de  Tangle  supdrieur  gauche,  de  gauche  d  droite, 
et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'images  ndcessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  la  mdthode. 


rrata 
o 


lelure. 


3 


32X 


1 

2 

3 

1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

I 


AUl 


/ 


A   LITTLE   MAID 
OF  ACADIE 


BY 


MARIAN  C.  L.  REEVES 

AUTHOR    OF     "OLD    MAUTIN     BOSCAWEN's     JEST,"     ETC. 


CoR.-And  how  like  yoii  tliis  shepherd's  life 
Master  Touchstone  ?  ' 

Toucu.-Truly,  shepherd,  in  respect  of  it- 
self, It  is  a  Rood  life  ;  but  in  respec.  that  it  is  a 

ehepherd'slife.  it  is  nauRht In  respect 

It  18  in  the  nelds,  it  pleasefh  me  well  ;   but  in 
respect  it  is  not  in  the  court,  it  is  tedious. 

As  You  Like  It. 


NEW  YORK 
D.   APPLETON    AND    COMPAKY 

1888 


I      i 


Copyhioht,  1888, 
Bv  D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY. 


I 


A  LITTLE  MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


"...  In  the  hollow  by  the  stream 
That  beach  leans  down  into,  of  which  you  said 
The  Oread  in  it  ha.s  a  Naiad's  heart, 
And  pines  for  waters." 

A  STONY  hollow,  down  among  the  hills.  The 
Tery  spot  where,  when  at  the  creation  rock  and 
earth  were  being  sown  broadcast  over  the  face  of 
the  globe,  the  rocks  wore  through  the  bottom  of 
the  sack  that  held  them,  trickling  thick  ».nd  fast 
i^  a  gray  stream  that  frets  the  brown  little  mount- 
l^n  river  hurrying  to  the  St.  John. 
I  A  spot  wild  and  antrodden  since  that  day,  one 
Blight  have  said  ;  but  for  the  bleaching  skeletons 
of  trees  that  bristle  up  the  slopes,  and  tell  where 
himbcr-camps  have  been,  and  gone.  Young  trees 
aiid  alders  and  tall  ferns  are  trying  fast  to  cover 
Ijtp  the  havoc  these  have  made  ;  and  where  they 
uster  closest,  the  stream  broadens  out,  giving 


A  LITTLE  MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


I 


buijbling  promise  of  a  sliiillow  ford,  so  clear  as  it 
runs  over  the  pebbles. 

A  promise  "vviiich  old  Dobbin,  wiser  than  lii^ 
rider,  knew  better  than  to  trust ;  for  lie  maile 
what  protest  he  could,  sidling  on  the  margin,  be- 
fore ho  went  floundering  into  a  treacherous  pot»l 
midway.  As  Dr.  Kendal  pulled  him  up  rathtr 
roughly,  having  taken  more  water  than  he  likcMl. 
a  peal  of  mocking  laughter  rang  out,  up-stream. 

Now,  to  be  mounted  on  a  sorry  nag  is  quite 
mortification  enough  to  a  good  horseman,  without 
the  added  aggravation  of  providing  amusemoti: 
for  a  by-stander — in  search  of  whom,  Kemhii 
turned  half  angrily  in  his  saddle,  and  caugli: 
sight  of  a  gray  something  drifting  with  the  twi- 
light  shadows  half-way  across  the  water. 

So  dim  was  it,  amid  those  shadows,  that  i: 
might  almost  be  mistaken  for  the  evening  mi.<t 
or,  if  one  were  fanciful,  for  malicious  water- 
sprite,  that 

«  "...  mid  her  rccda 

Pressed  her  cold  finger  closer  to  her  lip," 

checking  her  involuntary  laughter  as  she  saw  he:  t^^SH 

self  discovered.     But  Kendal,  being  of  a  practic  f^'jcj 

bent,  instantly  inferred  stepping-stones.  l""^ 

The  small  gray,  hurried  figure  had  flittc  ^  ^^* 

over  to  the  opposite  bank,  vanishing  in  the  trco  *"^y 

while  Kendal  still  drew  bridle,  half  minded  i  ^^^  H 


I 


jlcar  as  it 

than  hi^ 
ho  madi' 
largin,  \>v- 
crous  pool 
lip  rather 
L  he  liked, 
ip-strcam. 
xg  is  quit* 
111,  without 
amusement 
m,  Kcml^ii 
and  can  pi  It 
ilh  the  twi- 
er. 

)ws,  that  i. 
ening  mi>t 
fcious  watci' 

her  reeds 

in" 

lip, 

she  saw  he 
)f  a  practice 

les. 
had  flitto 
in  the  tree: 

f  minded  t 


\   LITTLE  MAID  OF  ACADIE.  5 

ride  after,  and  demand  why  she  had  left  him  to 
flounder  through  the  water  Iiere,  while  she  could 
liave  given  a  liint  of  the  ford  above  ? 

However,  tliere  was  something  she  Iiad  shown 
liim,  whether  she  would  or  no :  the  opening 
throui^h  the  wood,  which  elsewhere  closed  in, 
im])enetrubly  thick  and  matted. 

Kendal  had  ridden  down  into  ihe  hollow, 
•beckoned  l)y  a  thin  wave  of  chimney-smoke  from 
•the  house  to  which  he  had  been  called  to  visit  a 
Aiivw  patient. 

A  starveling  signal,  to  be  flung  out  from  the 

ligh-sounding  De  Landremont  homestead.     But 

p^endal  had  been  long  enough  in  the  Madawaska 

region  to  look  for  nothing  on  a  larger  scale  than 

the  trim  cottages  of  the  hahitans.      With  their 

jquaintly  sloping  whitewashed  roofs  sol  in  ruddy 

.})uckwheat  patches,  or  yellowing  strips  of  late- 

J^ipening  grain,   they  spread   along  the   natural 

lerraces  of  the  river  St.  John,  and  up  into  the 

fkirts  of  i\\Q  forest,  whither  the  old  Acadians  fled, 

^  century  ago  ;  or  such  among  the  old  Acadians, 

Jlvangeline's  compatriots,  as  happily  escaped  the 

lEnglish  ships  that  would  have  carried  them  into 

(|xile.     In  this  safe  refuge,  on  the  summer  farms 

i^r  in  the  winter  lumber-camps,  the  years  went  by  : 

|a  Acadie,  as  the  habitans  dreamed,  until  one  day 

Ipiey  woke,  and  found  that  Maine  had  reached 

t  her  boundary-line,  and  drawn  some  of  them 


1(1 


6 


A   LITTLE   MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


in  just  here.  On  each  side  of  tliat  line,  somc- 
timenimacfinary,  sometimes  the  clear,  broad,  twist- 
ini,'  band  of  the  St.  John,  the  old  Acadian  fami- 
lies remain,  one  half  **  American,"  one  half  pro- 
vincial, both  halves  wholly  French  ;  thouf,di  will- 
ingly enough  making  room  among  themselves 
for  an  outsider  such  as  Dr.  Kendal. 

lie  meanwhile  had  reached  the  gap  where  his 
unwitting  guide  had  vanished  ;  pushed  his  way 
along  the  path  on  which  the  alders  trespassed  ; 
and  emerged  on  a  wide  open  space  ^\;hich  might 
once  have  been  garden,  but  where  uow  scrub 
spruce  and  firs  were  straggling,  and  sumac  thrust 
its  coarse  red  pompons  in  the  stead  of  flowers. 
In  the  midst,  a  rambling  cottage,  larger  than  tlio 
wont,  but  gray  and  leaning  to  decay,  and  with 
that  niggardly  line  of  smoke  wavering  above. 

It  was  the  one  sign  of  occupancy  about  the 
place  ;  so  Kendal  followed  it,  flinging  his  bridle 
over  a  half-sunken  gate-post — gate  there  was  none 
— and  crossing  the  furze-grown,  wood-littered  yard 
to  the  door. 

His  knock  was  unanswered.  But  the  line  of 
windows  with  that  gaunt  and  hollow-eyed  look 
which  the  want  of  curtains  always  gives,  offered 
him  no  encouragement  to  try  farther  on.  Tlic 
chimney-smoke  was  at  least  something  promis- 
ing ;  so,  after  a  moment's  hesitation,  he  lifted  the 
latch. 


iroi 


I 


A   LITTLE  MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


C,  Bomc- 
id,  twist- 
iiin  fumi- 
liiilf  pro- 
u<r\\  will- 
\cmsclvcs 

where  hi--' 
[  his  way 
•espasscd  ; 
ich  might 
low  scrub 
iiac  thru>t 
3f  flowers. 
;r  than  the 
,  and  with 
above, 
about  the 
his  bridle 
re  was  none 
ttcrcd  yard 

the  line  of 
v-eycd  look 
ivcs,  offertHl 
:;r  on.  Tiic 
ing  promi.^- 
he  lifted  tht 


It  was  a  long,  low-raftcrcd  kitchen  into  which 
he  was  invited  bv  tlie  firelight.  The  llanies  went 
dancing  about  a  row  of  tins  on  the  tall  dresser- 
shelves  ;  catching  at  the  jmlishcd  circle  of  the  spin- 
ning-wheel, and  the  high  wooden  settle  against  the 
wall  ;  glancing  over  at  the  brasses  of  a  credence , 
an  old-fashioned  press,  just  opposite  ;  thence  slink- 
ing back  behind  the  black  pot  hung  in  the  great 
roomy  chimney,  and  flickering  out  again  with 
brightening  touches  upon  what  Kendal  only  just 
then  caught  sight  of. 

A  fair  head  half  turned  his  wav,  witli  startled 
poise,  a  small  gray  figure  seated  on  the  hearth. 

Kothing  misty  nor  naiad-likc,  here,  but  only 
I  a  very  earthly  little  girl ;  to  whom,  however,  Ken- 
dal straightway  went  up,  and  said — in  English  due 
to  the  fair  hair  : 

** Water-witches  don't  care  for  a  fire;  so 
you'll  not  mind  my  taking  this  from  you,  as 
I  was  not  prepared  for  that  plunge  in  the 
stream  ?  " 
^  lie  had  taken  his  stand  on  the  hearth  before 
f  her,  leaning  against  the  side  of  the  wide  chimney  : 
a  rather  massive,  dark-bearded  man,  twisting  his 
riding-whip  in  a  pair  of  vigorous,  ungloved  hands, 
and  looking  down  on  her  with  a  twinkle  in  his 
deep-set  gray  eyes. 

Her  color  deepened  ;  she  shifted  her  position, 
fronting  him  more  directly,  her  elbows  on  her 


A   LITTLE   MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


knees,  her  chin  in  her  two  little  brown  hands,  her 
blue  eyes  sparkling  defiance  up  at  him. 

When  that  movement  was  all  the  answer  he 
had— 

*'Do  you  not  understand  ?"  he  said,  this  time 
in  French. 

"  Oui,  'coniprends,"  she  returned  indifferently, 
settling  herself  into  her  old  ])osition. 

"What  had  I  done,  that  you  should  give  mc 
no  hint  of  the  ford  ?  " 

*'  What  had  you  done,  that  I  should  give  you 
any  hint  of  it  ?" 

She  said  it  with  such  directness,  such  certainty 
of  unanswerableness  in  the  cold,  sweet  voice,  that 
Kendal  rather  stared  at  lier,  taken  by  surprise 
as  when  one  would  touch  a  rose,  and  finds  it 
tinted  marble  instead. 

How  had  she  come  by  that  fair  little,  sunny- 
haired  face,  the  big  childish  blue  eyes  that  ought 
to  have  had  the  sunshine  in  them  too,  but  had 
only  an  unchildlike  hardness  instead  ?  Kendal 
had  nothing  to  say,  for  an  instant ;  and  then  the 
pause  was  broken  by  the  opening  of  an  inner 
door. 

"Oh,  but  that  is  fine  !  on  a  summer  evenin^r 
like  this,  to  burn  up  all  the  wood  my  vierC 
huomme  Pacifique  has  cut  for  madame's  fire  up- 
stairs ! " 

The  brisk  old  body  on  the  threshold,  her   'hite- 


on,  i] 

find 
that 

oent 


i 


A   LITTLE   MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


» 


ids,  her 

iwcr  he 

lis  time 

:crcntly» 

give  me 

give  you 

certainty 

oice,  that 

surprise 

I  finds  it 

le,  sunny- 
hat  ought 
hut  had 
Kendal 
then  the 
an  inner 

ler  evening 
my  viert' 
[e's  fire  up- 

Lher   'hitc- 


kerchiefed  ljo>oni  Hwelling  with  indignation  at  tlic 

reckless  extravagance  of  tlie  lire,  lier  crest  of  a 

wiiite  cap  bristling,  lier  sharp  little  face  thrust 

'  forward,  like  an  angry  hen  that  finds  her  ne.st 

meddled  with — had  taken  no  note  of  the  stranger. 

'  Until  the  giil  said,  with  a  careless  shrug  : 

*       **I  have  burned  a  bc'aut6  of  your  wood  ;  that 

lis  because  you  left  me  no  candle.     Use  the  one 

tin  your  hand,  tanto  Marguite,  and  fico  we  have  a 

Ivisitor." 

Tante  Marguitc  came  hastily  fo'^Mard,  with  a 
[uick  change  of  tone,  a  ring  of  ri  'icf  iii  it. 
"  Eh,  it  is  monsieur  the  d  'ctor  ?" 
*  Yes,  I  am  Dr.  Kcridal.     1  recei ved  your  mes- 


sage— 


»> 


She  had  turned  to  the  girl  : 

**Go,  then,  tell  madame  I  urn  showing  mon- 
sieur the  doctor  up." 

The  girl  rose,  as  of  habit,  at  tlie  ]ieromptory 
order ;  but  lingeringly,  in  a  surprised  way,  with 
an  evident  desire  to  hear  more. 

But  not  a  word  more  was  added,  until  the 
door  had  closed  on  her. 

Then : 

''Listen  a  little,  monsieur,"  the  woman  went 
on,  in  her  provincial  Frencli,  "I  fear  you  will 
find  madame  failing  fast.  It  is,  however,  true 
tliat  she  is  near  as  young  as  me  "  ;  with  a  compla- 
oent  drawing  up  of  her  own  alert,  round  figure. 


10 


A  LITTLE  MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


I 


"But  as  Pacifique  (that  is  my  man,  monsieur, 
that  was  gardener  here,  when  there  was  anybody 
to  see  a  garden  !)  tells  me  only  yesterday,  peonies 
and  those  common  things  are  well  more  hardy 
than  the  dainty  flowers  one  puts  in  the  vase  in 
the  salon.  But  monsieur  will  come  and  judge 
for  himself." 

Kendal  was  a  little  impatient  to  do  so ;  but 
she  detained  him  to  explain  that  le  Bon  Dieu  had 
brought  him  to  the  neighborhood  just  in  time. 
For  if  madame's  illness  had  been  but  two  weeks 
earlier,  while  the  old  doctor  was  yet  alive,  and 
Dr.  Kendal  had  not  come  down  from  Riviere  du 
Loup  to  fill  his  place,  what  a  misfortune  !  For 
madame  would  not  have  sent  for  the  old  doctor, 
at  any  price ;  not  since  he  had  taken  upon  him- 
self to  speak  to  her  about  monsieur  Jean,  just 
after  monsieur  Fran9ois  turned  his  back  once  for 
all  on  the  old  home.  And  if  monsieur  the  doc- 
tor is  to  do  madame  any  good  now,  he  will  have 
the  kindness  to  remember  she  has  never  spoken 
of  the  old  story,  nor  heard  those  two  names,  for 
it's  many  and  many  a  year. 

**You  need  not  fear,"  Kendal  interposed, 
good-naturedly.  "The  less,  that  I  know  noth- 
ing of  the  old  story,  and  hear  the  names  for  the 
first  time  from  your  own  lips." 

Marguite  looked  rather  crestfallen  than  re- 
lieved that  gossip  did  not  busy  itself  about  tlit 


|Bnn 

.|)asi 
too  I 

I 
Mil 

hcroi 


A   LITTLE  MAID  OF  ACADIB. 


11 


lonsieur, 
anybody 
,  peonies 
re  hardy 
3  vase  in 
ad  judge 


0  so; 


but 
Dieu  had 
5  in  time, 
two  weelis 
alive,  and 
Riviere  du 
une  1    For 
old  doctor, 
upon  him- 
Jean,  just 
ok  once  for 
ar  the  doc- 
e  will  have 
ever  spoken 
)  names,  for 

interposed, 
know  notli- 
ames  for  the 

len  than  re 


De  Landremont  house.     But  she  was  prompt  to 
say,  somewhat  stiffly  indeed  : 

"  So  much  the  better ;  for  there's  no  getting 
anything  out  of  a  bag  but  what's  in  it.  This  way, 
then,  if  monsieur  pleases." 

But  Kendal  could  catch  a  murmur  now  and 
then,  as  she  lighted  him  np-stairs  : 

"Truly  I  and  he  in  the  village  two  whole 
I  weeks  !  And  to  think  all  the  world  could  forget 
I  that  little  history  !  But,  all  the  same,  le  Bon 
I  Dieu  has  brought  him  just  in  time,  in  place  of 
I  the  old  one." 

%  Kendal  smiled  rather  grimly.  If  she  thought 
Uhe  death  of  his  predecessor  providential,  what 
> would  she  think  of  that  episode  in  Kendal's  own 
"life,  which  had  more  or  less  remotely  brought 
about  his  being  here,  in  the  stead  of  the  medical 
adviser  madame  would  not  lijrve  sent  for  ? 

The  sound  of  footsteps  on  the  stairs  must  have 
announced  them  ;  for  as  the  two  reached  the  land- 
ing, a  door  was  opened  by  the  girl,  who  flitted 
j)ast   without  speaking,    and    they  entered    the 
"loom. 

Kendal's  expectations,  on  the  basis  of  so  ii^nch 
of  the  house  as  he  had  already  seen,  were  at  fault 
^ere.  It  was  as  if  all  thot  the  other  rooms  had 
iver  known  of  quaint  anu  massive,  in  the  way  of 
^Id  mahogany,  had  marshaled  themselves  about 


ilf  about  tlv    ^G  mistress  antiquated  as  they.     In  the  light  of 


« 


12 


A  LITTLE  MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


the  silver  candelabrum  on  the  stand  at  her  elbow, 
she  was  glancing  up  at  her  visitor,  out  of  a  pinched 
white  face  ;  all  the  more  white  and  waxen  for  the 
startling  contrast  with  the  black  silk  kerchief  tied 
three-corner-wise  over  her  silvery  hair.  It  gave 
her  the  look  of  a  religieuse  ;  a  look  flatly  contra- 
dicted by  the  quick,  vivacious  eyes — 

"  Coal  coal  black,  and  they're  like  a  hawk, 
And  they  winna  let  a  body  be," 

said  Kendal  to  himself,  while  she  was  welcomin*]^ 
him  in  French  much  older  than  herself : 

"  Dr.  Kendal,  is  it  not  ?  I  am  charmed  to 
see  you  ;  though  perhaps  you  may  think  my  send- 
ing for  you  a  mere  trap  to  catch  a  visitor  ?  Tlic 
truth  is,  my  good  Marguerite  here — " 

A  smile  of  friendly  understanding  passed  be- 
tween mistress  and  maid,  as  the  latter  softly  witli- 
drew  from  the  room. 

"  My  good  Marguerite  will  have  it  that  I  am 
not  quite  strong  this  summer  ;  and  so,  as  I  am 
entirely  dependent  on  her  for  companionship,  1 
find  it  wisest  not  to  dispute  on  the  point  of  ii 
needle,  and  am  a  little  ill  accordingly," 

Kendal  looked  at  her  in  some  doubt  as  to  how 
much  of  the  cheerful  tone  was  real,  how  mncl, 
assumed.  To  him,  the  first  light  touch  of  deal! 
was  so  apparent  in  the  delicate,  pinched  feature-. 


I 


■I 


^roi 

ft 


A  LITTLE   MAID  OF  AGADIE. 


13 


jr  elbow, 
pinched 
a  for  the 
jhief  tied 
It  gave 
y  contra- 


k, 


welcoming 

E: 

iharmed  to 
ik  my  sciul- 
itor?    The 

passed  1)C- 
softly  witli- 

that  I  am 
so,  as  I  am 
anionsliip,  1 

B  point  of  a 

ibt  as  to  ho^ 
,  how  miul 
)uch  of  dculi 
hcd  feature^ 


•    tluit  he  must  think  she  had  at  least  felt  the  ap- 
proach of  the  cold  hand.     lie  watched  her  with 
tlie  interest  we  are  wont  to  feel  in  one  who  is,  we 
see,  well-nigh  f.ice  to  face  with  the  mysteries  of 
that  strange,  hidden  world.     But  to  those  keen 
old  eyes  there  were  no  mysteries  ;  and  not  much 
of  a  world  outside  the  four  walls  of  this  chamber 
of  hers. 
,.        *'  I  do  not  know  to  what  will  serve  your  pow- 
iders,  Dr.  Kendal,"  she  said  to  him,  tapping  with 
^  transparent  hand  certain  tiny  folded  papers  his 
I  saddle-bags  had  furnished  forth,  when  nearly  an 
hour  later  he  had  risen  to  go  ;  "  but  I  am  sure 
your  visit  has  been  of  benefit.     You  will  always 
be  the  welcome  monsieur,  as  often  as  you  may 
spare  an  hour  for  an  old  woman — a  spjJtante  who 
has  been  out  of  the  world  a  good  many  years 
.^already.     For  me,  I  commence  to  believe,"  she 
added,  graciously,  **I  have  been  in  error,  since  a 
long  time,  in  so  shutting  all  young  companion- 
ehip  out  of  my  life,  that  I  forgot  it  could  interest 
me — until  you  came." 

Young  companionship  !  Kendal  was  smiling 
to  himself  over  the  words,  as  he  went  out. 

They  had  an  odd  sound  in  them,  applied  to 
jhimself. 

A  man's  age  is  not  always  to  be  computed 
from  the  entry  of  his  birth  in  the  family  Bible. 
It  was  now  some  years  since  Kendal  had  believed 


\      n 


rrr 


14 


A   LITTLE   MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


!        i 


his  youth  as  completely  ended  as  if  he  were  verging 
on  the  threescore  years  and  ten  of  the  old  lady  up- 
stairs. Yes,  youth  and  he  had  parted  company  ; 
he  did  not  know  that  he  should  desire  a  meeting 
again.  It  was  well  over ;  he  had  no  more  wish 
to  bring  it  back,  with  its  feverish  moods,  than  to 
risk  having  again  the  scarlet  fever,  or  anything 
else  incident  to  one^s  early  days.  Perhaps  if  what 
he  called  his  middle-age  had  been  even  as  much 
as  the  precise  middle  of  the  allotted  threescore 
years  and  ten  ;  or  had  brought  with  it  any  other 
physical  sign  than  an  added  breadth  of  shoulder  : 
in  other  words,  if  youth  had  passed  so  far  away 
from  him,  as  to  be  beyond  glancing  over  her 
shoulder  at  him  as  she  went  —  he  might  have 
reached  out  eagerly  after  the  mere  retreating 
shadow.  As  it  was,  he  was  conscious  of  a  faint, 
pleasurable  amusement  at  Mme.  de  Landremont's 
odd  mistake — a  feeling  which  left  him  no  time 
to  wonder  that,  in  speaking  of  young  companion- 
ship, she  should  keep  no  note  of  the  girl  down- 
stairs. 

He  was  the  more  taken  by  surprise  when,  at 
an  angle  in  the  stairs,  the  girl  stopped  him,  start- 
ing up  suddenly  from  her  seat  on  a  lower  step. 

"  Tell  me,  is  she  ill — my  grandmother  ?  You 
are  a  doctor  :  tell  me,  will  she — will  she  die  9  " 

'*  Your  grandmother  ? "  He  repeated  the 
words  almost  incredulously. 


•'<"M^ 


#'aw 
illl 
iUki 
lyh] 

«itht 


II!!  : 


A  LITTLE  MAID  OF  AOADIE. 


IS 


e  verging 
I  lady  up- 
ompany ; 
1  meeting 
nore  wish 
s,  than  to 
anything 
,ps  if  what 
n  as  much 
threescore 
any  other    ' 
'  shoulder : 
0  far  away 
rr  over  her 
night  have 
retreating 
of  a  faint, 
ndremont's 
m  no  time 
companion- 
girl  down- 

se  when,  at 
him,  start- 
wer  step. 
>ther?   You 
ihe  die  9  " 
epeated   the 


She  never  heeded.     She  stood  in  the  moon- 
alight  slanting  in  at  the  window  behind  her,  and 
lifted  to  him  a  pale,  determined  face  that  would 
not  be  trifled  with. 

"  Vill  she  fZie  r' 

The  voice  sank  to  a  frightened  whisper,  ap- 
pealing to  him  as  if  he  had  only  to  open  his  lips 
and  pronounce  for  death  oi  reprieve. 

Perhaps  she  interpreted  his  grave  smile  too 
hopefully,  as  he  said  : 

B  "  She  is  not  ill.  Perhaps  she  may  never  bo 
^1.  She  is  old ;  the  sands  are  running  low,  the 
threescore  years  and  ten  are  almost  spent.  I  think 
you  will  one  day  be  glad,  if  you  can  brighten  the 
brief  while  that  is  left ;  can  cheer  with  your  com- 
panionship— " 

"  My  companionship — my  companionship  ! " 

She  broke  in  with  a  short,  hard  laugh  ;  so 
bitter,  that  involuntarily  he  drew  a  step  nearer 
her. 

At  that  she  recovered  herself,  with  a  haughty 
drawing  up  of  the  small  figure,  and  looked  him 
fall  in  the  face.  "  You  don't  know  what  you  are 
talking  about — "  she  said,  insolently ;  and  went 
by  him  like  a  flash. 

Kendal  descended,  feeling,  as  he  told  himself, 
rather  more  hot  and  angry  than  was  worth  while 
itt  a  child's  impertinence — a  child,  a  mere  frac- 
tion of  youth,  which  apparently  did  not  count 


i!fr 


1  1 


ill 


* 


t'< 


IG 


A  LITTLE  MAID   OF  ACADIE. 


in  the  summing  up  of  the  inmates  of  the  old 
house. 

And  how  soon  would  Death's  summons  come, 
to  lessen  the  number  yet  more  ?  The  utmost 
Kendal  could  hope  to  do,  would  be  to  bar  the 
door  against  it  for  a  very  little  while. 


Do 

01  n, 

kid 

i 
4 


II. 


"...  the  slow  door 


That,  opening,  letting  in,  Ic  3  out  no  more." 


J 

and 

aDgI( 


The  summons  was  nearer  than  Kendal  knew  crcati 

Tie  had  but  paid  two  or  three  visits  more  tilonc 
made  welcome  by  the  gracious  old  lady,  but  set  wav  i 
ing  nothing  of  the  girl,  save  a  gray  shadow  vai:  gKnir 
ishing  among  the  trees.  T 

When    one    midnight,    came   old    Pacifiqui  Land 
hurrying  with  so  urgent  a  message,   that   Dr  b0ten 
Kendal,   as  he  threw  himself  into  his  saddle  ^on( 
feared  Death  on  the   Pale  Horse  would  rcac       Tf 
madame's  door  before  him.  Bat  si 

And  so,  indeed,  it  proved.  bed  ; 

When  Kendal — better  mounted  than  in  Do:o^sso| 
bin's  day,  and  therefore  easily  distancing  Pac  4  Til 
fique — had  dismounted,  and  made  his  way  acroJ||nd[ 


A  LITTLE  MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


17 


f  the  old 


ions  come, 
ho  utmost 
to  bar  the 


slow  door 
more." 


|he  littered  yard  to  the  house,  he  nearly  stumbled 
jpver  a  small  figure  crouching  on  the  door-step. 
I  So  small  a  figure — so  desolate  out  there  in  tbo 
i^ark,  with  head  dropped  on  its  knees — that  it  is 
no  wonder  the  man  was  moved,  as  one  is  easily 
by  a  cliild's  trouble.  And  seeing  that  her  sob- 
bing made  her  deaf  to  his  approach,  he  gently 
Ipjd  his  hand  upon  the  drooping  head. 
>  **Come  in  with  m^^  —I  will  take  you  to  her," 
lie  said. 

lie  could  feel  the  shudder  that  shook  her  from 
head  to  foot.  She  slipped  from  under  his  hand, 
and  the  next  instant  she  was  gone,  beyond  the 
augle  of  the  house. 

This  was  no  fitting  time  to  give  the  wayward 

[cndal  knew,  creature  a  thought  more.     Yet  it  may  be  ques- 

visits  more  tionec'  whether  Kendal  did  not,  as  he  made  his 

ady  but  set  way  up  through  the  empty  house,  guided  by  the 

shadow  viu.  gKmmer  of  a  light  placed  on  the  landing. 

There  was  a  farther  glimmer  across  Mme.  de 
d  Pacifiq^^'  Landremont's  threshold.  Marguite  must  have 
crc    that  Ur  bften  on  the  watch  for  him,  for  she  opened  to  him 

his  sadilli  i^once,  quietly  as  he  came, 
would  rcat       The  sharp  old  face  was  blurred  with  tears. 
But  she  did  not  speak  until  he  had  bent  over  the 
bed ;  then  reverently  replaced  the  waxen  hand 
than  in  Po  otbssed  on  the  quiet  breast. 

stancing  riKjB*^^®  woman  moved  to  a  window  apart,  and 
acioJipndal  followed  her ;   both   with  the  stedthy 
2 


I  his  way 


18 


A   LITTLE  MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


ilhH 


ii 


liliM 


tread  which  one  falls  into  in  the  death-chamber:! 
as  if  one  feared  disturbing  that  one  sleeper  whom| 
no  jarring  sound  can  ever  again  trouble. 

"I  suppose,  from  what  your  husband  told  mc, ^ 
it  was  too  sudden  to  liave  sent  for  me  earlier," 
said   Kendal,    speaking   in   a   suppressed  voiced 
"  Had  it  even  been  otherwise,   I  could  hardly -j 
have  done  anything.     It  might  be  some  relief  to 
you,  perhaps,"  he  added,  after  a  pause,  lookini: 
kindly  at  the  old  face  with  the  painful  tears  o: 
age  upon  it,  ^*if  I  were  to  take  on  me  some  o! 
the  arrangements  now  ?    That  is  to  say,  if  tlicr 
is  no  proper  friend  within  reach  to  do  it,  as  ;ii' 
pears  to  be  the  case." 

"  If  monsieur  would  have  the  goodness  ?    Si 
then,  my  old  Pacifique,  he  does  of  the  best  whicl 
he  knows  ;  but  he'd  be  coming  to  ask  me  aboi: 
everything ;    which   is  what   I   could   not   bca: 
though  mostly  I  do  like  it  well,"  she  added,  car 
didly.     "Now,  monsieur  would  understand  wh; 
is  fitting.     He  bien,  it  is  everything  of  the  be: 
that  is  fitting.     There  is  no  need  to  stint  tl. 
money  ;   she  that  is  gone   had   enough  and  t    |am 
spare,  for  all  she  chose  to  live  here  in  this  loii 
some  way,  with  just  us  two  to  care  for  her." 

''And  mademoiselle  ?"  put  in  Kendal,  witli 
remembrance  of  the  lonely  little  figure  on  t: 
door-steps. 

*'  Oui-dil !    Mamselle  Fran9uaise  ! " 


Vi 

i\ 
b] 

ea 

to 

^h( 
p; 
liei 
|her 
^•ie 
Js  I 


J)03 


l( 


eta 

*ej', 


A   LITTLE   MAID  OF  ACADIK. 


10 


i-ch  amber : 
cpcr  whom 

0. 

lid  told  mc, 
tnc  earlier,'' 
}sscd  Toice, 
)uld  hardly 
,me  relief  to 
,usc,  lookin,:: 
ifal  tears  oi 
mc  some  oi 
say,  if  thev 
do  it,  as  ap- 


There  was  a  sort  of  contemptuous  snort  in  the 
^  words  —  checked,  however,  by  a  glance  toward 
"':  the  bed,  wliere  no  unseemly  sound  could  come  to 
break  that  rest. 

Kendal,  still  thinking  of  the  lonely  child,  was 
Baying : 


odness  ? 


Set, 

he  best  whicl 

ask  me  aboir 

Jd   not  bear 

le  added,  can 

ierstand  wlia 

g  of  the  bes; 

to  stint  tl: 

,ough  and  i 

e  in  this  Ion 

for  her." 

iendal,  witl 

figure  on  t 


it 


se  I 


!»> 


And  those  who  should  bo  notified  ?   It  ought 
;to  be  done  at  once." 

|-  "  There  is  no  one,  monsieur.  No  one  knows, 
these  years  and  years,  where  monsieur  Frangois 
■is  ;  and  all  the  rest  of  her  family  have  gone  before 
her.  All  but  Madame  Jean's ;  if  you  call  that 
her  family  !  Madame  Jean  is  in  Europe  :  better 
friends  at  a  distance  than  enemies  near,  sav  I.  It 
|s  my  old  man  and  me  who  will  accompany  her 
to  the  grave.  And  mamsclle  Fran^uaiso,  sup- 
)os — "  she  added,  as  an  after-thought. 

"Mamsclle  Franguaise,  of  course.     And  this 
Ladame  Jean  ?  " 

"Is  her  son's  widow,  monsieur  must  undcr- 
band.  Sec  a  little,  I  will  fetch  monsieur  her  let- 
jr,  which  reached  madame  the  day  monsieur  first 
ime  to  see  her.  She  bade  me  put  it  away  here 
HI  the  secretaire.  *  It  has  directions  enough  for 
a  daily  correspondence,  ma  bonne  Marguite,'  she 
said  to  me.  '  The  woman  might  know  it  imports 
Bae  nothing,  how  she  may  run  cackling  over  a 
whole  continent,  with  her  brood  at  her  heels ; 
ine  of  them  may  pick  up  a  prince's  feather  some- 


gi 


•  i 
I  I 


so 


A   LITTLE   MAID   OF  ACADIE. 


i  i 


where  as  they  go,  but  ifc  can  import  nothing  to      f 


me. 


f  >> 


She  repeated  her  dead  mistress's  speech,  "W'itli 
evident  satisfaction  in  it,  before  she  added  for 
herself  : 

*'  I'd  be  beholden  to  monsieur  if  he  wonlil 
have  the  goodness  to  write  instead  of  me.  For, 
tlie  pen  once  in  my  hand,  one  good  time  for  all, 
there's  things  would  get  themselves  written  down 
on  the  paper — do  I  not  know  it,  I  who  speak  ? 
Figure  to  yourself,  monsieur,  it  would  be  as  much 
as  my  place  is  worth." 

Kendal  had  opened  the  thin  sheet  of  foreign 
paper  she  had  given  him,  and  was  jotting  down 
the  address  at  the  top  of  the  page. 

**  Just  Madame  Jean,  monsieur  :  her  family  ij 
all.  Except  the  neighbors.  They  came  willingly 
enough  to  the  old  house,  in  the  days  when  it  wa- 
the  best  known  of  all  around  for  gay  doings: 
may  be  they'll  not  mind  coming  yet  one  time,  i: 
only  to  see  the  changes  the  long  years  have 
brought  about.  For  it  is  years  and  years  si  net 
monsieur  Jean  made  that  marriage  that  turiici; 
madame  so  bitter  against  him  ;  and  reason  gooa 
too  ! " 

It  was  not  just  the  moment  to  be  interested  i: 
a  match  of  yeafs  and  years  ago  ;  and  though  cur: 
osity,  man  to  the  contrary  notwithstanding,  is. 
not  unmanly  failing,  Kendal  did  not  pursue  tli 


to  hi 
Wife 

boy  I 

If  si 

J'ail 
selk 

He, 

on  }J 


m 


A  LITTLE  MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


91 


lothing  to 

eecli,  with 
added  for 

he  would 

me.     For, 

me  for  all, 

•itten  down 

rlio  speak  ? 

be  as  miuh 

it  of  forci.un 
itting  down 

ler  family  i; 

me  willingly 

when  it  wa? 

gay  doings: 

one  time,  i: 

years  havi 

.  years  sine-; 

that  turnc'i 

reason  good 

!  interested  i: 
.  though  cur 
standing,  is 
)t  pursue  til 


subject.  lie  was  folding  up  the  letter,  when  Mar- 
guite  stopped  him. 

**  If  it  pleases  monsieur  to  take  it  ?  It  is  neces- 
sary to  read  it.  There's  nothing  in  it  that  the 
whole  village  does  not  know — or  did  before  they 
forgot,"  she  added,  resentfully.  *' There's  moro 
than  one  direction  in  it,  see  you,  monsieur ;  they're 
running  about  so  over  yonder  countries — one  date 
for  a  letter  to  get  to  her  at  such  a  town,  and  an- 
other at  another,  bon?ie  chance  !  'Tis  but  little 
ehe  need  liave  i)ut  herself  to  the  trouble  to  set 
ihcm  down  for  my  poor  mistress  ;  if  she  yet  lived, 
'tis  little  of  a  letter  Madame  Jean  need  look  for. 
But  I  suppose  it's  proper  now." 

*'  Most  certainly."  Kendal  was  putting  the 
letter  into  his  pocket-book.  "And  about  made- 
moiselle FranQuaise  ?  This  Madame  Jean  is  her 
aunt?" 

"  Ilcr  auut  !  But  that  is  just  what  she  ought 
to  have  been — that  is  to  say,  monsieur  Francois's 
wife,  since  she  was  first  promised  to  him,  poor 
boy  !  Ah,  he'd  never  have  gone  wrong  as  he  did, 
if  she  had  not  thrown  him  over  for  his  brother! 
Faites  excuse,  monsieur ;  Madame  Jean  is  Mam- 
selle  Franguaise's  mother." 

Kendal  felt  a  quick  sense  of  relief,  as  if  the  lit- 
tle, impracticable  thing  had  weighed  more  heavily 
n  him  than  was  needful. 

"  Her  mother  ?    I  am  glad  to  hear  that." 


22 


A   LITTLE   MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


ill  i  1 


iiiiil 


ill; 


I      'I 


*' Arc  you  so,  monsieur  ?"  was  old  ^larguitc's 
interpolation,  with  a  toss  of  tiic  head,  like  a 
charger  snufllng  the  battle  afar. 

"I  found  the  child  out  on  the  door-step,  cry- 
ing fit  to  break  lier  heart,"  he  went  on.  "  Do  not 
let  her  be  too  much  .ilone.  The  young  need  a 
helping  hand  to  ease  the  burden  of  their  sorrow 
for  them." 

He  missed  the  muttered  "Ouais!  Mamsello 
Fran(;uai.se  will  never  break  her  heart  under  that 
burden  ! " 

For  he  had  gone  out,  with  that  same  hushed 
step,  and  a  reverent  farewell  glance  across  at  tiu' 
upturned  face  on  the  pillow — the  fair  old  facv 
that  he  would  see  uo  more. 
•  For  the  girl,  he  saw  nothing  of  her  as  he  went 
down- stairs. 

Out  of  doors,  the  dubious  gray  dawn  was  confus- 
ing everything,  until  Kendal  had  almost  reachcil 
his  horse,  when  something  moved  beyond  it. 

It  was  FrauQoise,  her  head  bowed  down  on  tlie 
arm  she  had  flung  across  the  creature's  neck,  in  a 
sort  of  dumb  appeal  for  the  companionship  of 
some  living  thing,  in  this  first  hour  of  her  contact 
with  death. 

But  it  must  bo  some  living  thing  which  would 
leave  her  free  from  question  or  from  scrutiny. 

For  when  she  heard  Kendal's  step,  she  started 
up  and  went  past  him,  without  speaking. 


^% 


to 


A  LITTLE   MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


23 


Marguitc's 
}ad,  like  a 

ir-stcp,  crv- 
.  '*Doiiot 
ing  need  a 
heir  sorrow 


I   Mamsello 
under  that 

ime  liiishcd 
jross  at  till' 
lir  old  face 

.'  us  he  went    | 

was  con f  us-  | 
lost  reachtd 
ond  it. 
own  on  the 
s  neck,  in  a 
n  ion  ship  of 
her  contact 


V 


hich  would 
crutiny. 

she  started 


ing. 


III. 

"Life  treads  on  life,  nnd  heart  on  heart — 
We  press  too  close,  in  chureh  or  mart, 
To  keep  a  dream  or  grave  apart." 

"Mamselle  Fuax^oise,  of  course,"  Kendal 
had  repeated,  when  Marguitc  was  counting  on  her 
mistress's  followers  to  the  grave. 

But  she  had  somewhat  miscounted,  as  it 
[proved. 

TI  '  hour  came  when  the  funeral  procession 
was  to  start  for  the  village  church,  hut  Franyoisc 
was  nowhere  to  he  found. 

So,  after  all,  the  two  old  servitors  fell  into 
|])laec  as  chief  mourners  ;  rightful  place,  as  they 
jbotli  evidently  thought  it. 

There  was  plenty  of  honorable  observance  in 
[the  gathered  throng  of  fideks  ;  but  never  a  tear 
to  fall  on  the  heaped-up  mold,  save  those  few 
dropping  slowly  and  bitterly  from  Marguite's 
eyes,  as  she  clutched  the  arm  of  her  more  phleg- 
matic spouse,  with  a  pressure  which  even  in  her 
distress  was  intended  to  convey  to  him  her  sense 
that  he  was  not  doing  his  full  duty  to  the  occa- 
Bion,  by  standing  there  dry-eyed. 

But  when  Kendal  came  by  the  churchyard 
again,  in  the  early  twilight,  he  was  not  surprised 
to  find  the  girl  sitting  in  the  shadow  of  the  great 
black  cross  which  towered  in  the  midst  of  the 


m 


■|pMMM<t>>-»At^u>A4..  »»> -^y-ritoM 


24 


A  LITTLE  MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


I     '( 


i'!' 


ri! 


Mi 


graves,  its  arms  spanned  by  the  white  circle,  em- 
blem of  eternity. 

She  was  in  her  usual  listless  attitude,  her  el- 
bows in  her  lap,  her  chin  propped  in  her  two 
hands.  She  did  not  move,  except  to  put  up  an 
injpatient  shoulder,  when  she  heard  the  stir  of 
some  one  coming  to  her  through  the  long  grass ; 
and  she  said  petulantly,  and  without  looking 
round : 

"You  needn't  mind  mc,  tante  Marguite.  I'm 
not  going  home  yet — I  don't  want  any  supi)cr." 

There  was  a  strained  sound  in  the  voice  ;  and 
Kendal  caught  the  gleam  of  tears  in  the  eyes 
which  persistently,  as  if  to  hold  back  the  drops 
from  falling,  fixed  themselves  upon  the  wooded 
line  of  the  horizon.  He  saw  her  start  as  if  she 
knew  him  without  looking  directly  at  him,  and 
he  said,  gently : 

**  You  must  not  send  me  away  quite  at  once.  I 
have  ridden  far  to  have  a  moment's  talk  with  you." 

"Ah,  9a  I  I  know  what  you  are  going  to  say  !" 
Again  she  put  up  her  shoulder,  with  that  same 
impatient  gesture.  "It  is  hardly  worth  the  pain, 
however.  I  have  my  suffisance  of  it ;  tante  Mar- 
guite has  been  preaching  at  me  in  good  time, 
from  the  same  text.  Two  heads  in  one  cap,  you 
two,  monsieur ;  but,  all  the  two,  you  will  never 
make  me  sorry  that  I  stole  away  and  hid  myself 
this  morning,  instead  of  joining  in  the  triumphal 


«i 


A  LITTLE  MAID   OF  ACADIE. 


25 


si^cle,  em- 

de,  her  el- 
n  lier  two 
put  up  an 
the  stir  of 
ong  grass; 
at   looking 


guitc. 


I'm 
supper." 
voice  ;  and 
n  the  eyes 
k  the  drops 
the  wooded 
bt  as  if  she 
Lt  him,  and 

at  once.    I 
V  with  you." 
ng  to  say  ! " 
1  that  same 
th  the  pain, 
tante  Mar- 
good  time, 
»ne  cap,  you 
will  never 
hid  myself 
e  triumphal 


,  procession  to  lay  her  away  in  tlie  grave.     As  if, 
''  even  if  she  knew,  she  would  care  that  I— that  / 
was  near  her  !  " 

It  was  ratlier  a  gasp  than  a  sob,  which  broke 
,  tlic  voice.    And  then  slie  turned  on  him,  in  a  sort 
of  breathless  defiance  of  her  own  emotion. 

But  he  only  took  liis  seat  quietly  on  the  slop- 
ing ground  at  her  feet,  half-averted  from  lier,  and 
^letting  liis  gaze  rest,  as  had  hers,  on  the  new  mound 
Ma  stone's-throw  ofp.     It  was  already  marked,  as 
^the  majority  of  those  around,  with  a  cross  about 
itwo  feet  high,  neatly  covered  witli  black  muslin 
Istitched  over  it ;  on  which  was  also  sutched,  in 
lletters  of  white  tape  : 


I 

ns 

0 

1 

cigit 


Venerente  de  Landremont 


a 

e 
e 


71. 
H.  T.  P. 


'!'1S 


^''ii!ii 
I 


I  > 


m 


ill 


teii 


['■ .  I 


'l':l 


;i!h!i 


2G 


A  LITTLE  MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


Kondal  glanced  at  the  girl's  face,  from  tlie 
cross  ;  and  he  easily  guessed  who  had  planted  it 
there. 

But  he  made  no  comment. 

The  moon  was  beginning  to  glimmer  silvery 
through  the  gray  dusk  ;  the  woodland  stir  came 
to  them  like  a  sigh.  Kendal  left  time  enough  fur 
the  calm  to  quiet  her,  before  he  spoke  ;  even 
then,  rather  to  himself  than  to  her  : 

"I  have  often  thought  the  greatest  marvel  of 
the  other  world  is  the  different  view  of  this  one, 
which  must  flash  upon  our  suddenly  '^Icar-seeiii:: 
eyes.  To  behold  the  things  we  have  red  most 
for  in  our  daily  life,  the  little  comfort.^'  and  habits, 
dwindled  to  a  mere  speck  of  valley-dust  blown  oH 
from  us  upon  our  heights  ;  and  the  love,  the  very 
vital  air  we  breathe,  the  one  thing  that  mount; 
with  us — " 

She  put  up  her  hand  hurriedly  to  stop 
him. 

"I  understand  you;  you  suppose  it  woiiltl 
comfort  me  to  believe  that  grandmamma,  thoiidi 
here  she  never  thought  about  my  love,  would  .^c 
great  price  on  it  fherc.  Bat  you  are  mistake: 
from  beginning  to  end.  I  never  loved  grand 
mamma." 

She  said  it  in  a  bitterly  shamed  way,  sink  in. 
her  head  as  if  humiliated  by  the  confession.  Bii 
she  spoke  it  out  bravely,  as  repelling  the  dislioii' 


h( 
fil( 


■ 


A  LITTLE   MAID  OF   ACADIE. 


27 


from  the 
planted  it 


mcr  silvery 
1  stir  came 
enougli  for 
lokc  ;   even 

st  marvel  of 
of  this  one, 
plear-scein? 
.red  most 
^'  and  habits, 
.ist  blown  Oil 
ovc,  the  very 
uit  moiinb: 

dly  to    stop 

CO  it  woiiltl 
nma,  thougli 
vc,  would  SCI 
are  mistiikei 
loved  gruiul 

way,  sink  in: 
fession.  Bu' 
(T  the  dishoD' 


csty  of  claiming  credit  for  something  she  did  not 
deserve. 

Kendal  heard  her  in  surprise. 

And  her  agony  of  suspense  on  the  night  of  his 
first  visit,  wlien  she  stopped  liim  on  the  stairs ; 
her  sobs  out  in  the  night  of  death  ;  her  hopeless 
attitude  just  now  ? 

*''  I  suppose  you  have  felt  it  hard  to  be  kept 
here,  away  from  your  own  mother,"  he  said  in  the 
pause,  half  involuntarily,  trying  to  solve  the  prob- 
lem for  himself. 

Down  went  the  fair  head,  lower  3'et. 

*'Nor  my  mother,  either.  Why  should  you 
trouble  about  me,  Ur.  Kendal  ?  I  am  not  worth 
your  while.  I  am  not  a  good  girl.  As  tante 
IMarguite  says,  I  have  the  chamr  dur.  I  don't 
love  any  one  at  all." 

*'  Poor  child  !  poor  little  Franyoisc  !  " 

She  lifted  her  head  from  her  hands  and  looked 
at  him. 

I  He  was  not  looking  at  her,  as  he  sat  there  at 
tier  feet ;  his  dark,  strongly  marked  face  in  pro- 
file, his  eyes  again  on  tlie  horizon-line. 

There  was  nothing  to  startle  the  girl  in  such 
words  from  him.  She  would  never  have  made 
that  mistake  of  the  grandmother's  about  'lis 
young  companionship. 

4  She  watched  him  a  moment  in  silence ;  and 
|hcu — 


||;.|!ll^ 


28 


A  LITTLE   MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


l;l|< 


Hi 


"I  think  you  must  be  like  Uncle  Frank,"  slio 
said,  wistfully.  **  Not  in  face — I  don't  mean 
that — he  was  blond,  like  me.  That  is  why  they 
gave  me  his  name,  because  we  were  so  much 
alike." 

*'His  name  ?" 

Her  glance  had  wandered  again,  absently  fol- 
lowing the  breeze  as  it  freshened  in  the  waves  of 
grass,  and  here  and  there  flung  out  the  spray  of 
daisies  or  foam-drift  of  immortelles. 

Turned  aside  so,  she  missed  the  sudden  keen 
and  searching  look  which,  without  changing 
his  position,  Kendal  had  fixed  on  her  as  she 
answered : 

"  Mais  oui,  his  name.  Fran9oise  was  as  near 
as  they  could  give  a  girl,  of  course  ;  but  then  I 
was  always  called  Frank^j  as  a  little  one  in  the 
family." 

*^ Madame  Jean's  family?"  Kendal  said,  in- 
voluntarily quoting  tante  Marguite. 

The  girl  colored  a  little. 

"  But  yes,  certainly.  We  were  living  in  Liv- 
erpool then  ;  we  spoke  the  English  altogether 
there ;  that  is  not  to  say  I  have  not  forgotten 
much  since  then.  My  undo  Fran9ois  wai 
Frank—" 

The  searching  look  intensified,  as  if  Kenda! 
were  seeking  something  in  the  unconscious  faet 
which  had  not  struck  him  before  —  somethin:: 


M 


A   LITTLE   MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


20 


Frank,"  sho 
ion't  mean 
is  why  they 
re  so  much 


absently  fol- 
the  waves  of 
the  spray  of 

sudden  keen 

it    changing 

her   as    she 

}  was  as  near 
1;  but  then  1 
e  one  in  the 

idal  said,  in- 


living  in  Liv- 

sh   altogether 

lot  forgotten 


'ran  901s 


wa.- 


as  if  Kenda! 

Conscious  face 

—  something 


which  he  was  by  no  means  sure  he  had  found 
even  now.     And  yet — 

"  Frank  Latour  ?"  he  said,  witli  a  questionij]g 
inflection. 

"Xo,  but  De  Landromont,  monsieur  under- 
Btands.  Eh,  then,  I  had  almost  forgotten  ;  it  is 
rran9ois  La  Tour  de  Landremont,  for  a  daughter 
of  La  Tour  was  wife  to  a  De  Landremont  in  the 
early  days  of  Acadie.  But  my  uncle  Franyois 
was  just  Frank  with  us  in  England  ;  and  I  was 
Frank.  I  can  just  remember ;  and  Jiow  Marie 
would  always  call  me  so — and  papa.  Mamma 
never  did  ;  she — " 

There  she  checked  herself  abruptly.  Slie 
glanced  at  Kendal  with  hurried  inquiry  in  her 
l>3'es.     IIow  much  had  slie  said  ? — too  much  ? 

But  the  utter  absence  of  curiosity  in  his  face 
and  attitude  reassured  her. 

She  did  not  perceive  that  he  was  listening 
with  an  intentncss  deeper  than  mere  curiosity, 
and  that  might  have  suggested  a  stronger  interest 
in  this  Frank  Latour — de  Landremont — than  an 
unfamiliar  name  awakens. 

No  one  could  tell  the  relief  it  was  to  her  to 
speak.  The  strange  hush  she  had  been  kept  in 
for  days  was  appalling  to  her.  There  was  some- 
thing comforting  in  going  back  into  the  past, 
with  some  one  who  would  see  nothing  more  in  it 
tban  she  had   while  she   lived  it.     Afterward, 


30 


A  LITTLE  MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


i 


lljjjjjj.il 


^  iif 


i!'l 


I'; 


tante  luarguite  had  let  fall  enough  to  her  to  take 
all  the  pleasure  out  of  it.  To  tante  Marguite  she 
could  never  have  made  any  reference  to  it  again. 
I3ut  it  was  different  with  Kendal,  who  would  not 
see  anything  but  the  obvious  outside. 

So  she  went  on  : 

^'  I  can  just  remember  the  time  before  I  came 
here  ;  the  big  house  outside  of  Liverpool,  with  its 
great  gardens  ;  and  the  holiday  journeyings  now 
and  then  to  strange  foreign  places.  For  papa 
never  returned  here  after  his  marriage.  And 
when  he  had  made,  oh,  quantitu  in  money,  by  lum- 
ber and  ship-building,  first  in  St.  John,  and  then 
in  Liverpool,  he  would  take  us  traveling.  That  is 
not  the  way  the  sons  do  here,  3"ou  know,"  slio 
said,  more  gravely,  as  if  confessing  to  heterodox 
proceedings.  *'  They  settle  aiiror  dc  leurs  pen^, 
with  here  a  strip  and  there  a  strip  cut  off  the 
home-farm,  and  a  little  house  built  on  it  as  each 
marries.  There  was  a  little  house  built  on  tlic 
other  end  of  the  farm  here,  for  Uncle  Frank — " 

She  broke  off  hastily. 

"  Only,  he  did  not  marry.  But  those  old  days 
— those  journeyings — it  is  all  a  dream,  but  a  dream 
one  likes  to  think  of,  when  one  wakes." 

"  One  should  have  more  years  than  yours,  to 
care  to  dream  of  the  past,"  Kendal  said,  hastily. 
At  your  age — " 

"  I  was  nearly  nine  years  old.     Of  course,  it 


a 


lip. 


HE. 

to  her  to  take 
;  Marguite  she 
CO  to  it  again, 
ivho  would  not 
[c. 

before  I  came 
3rpool,  with  its 
urneyings  now 
)es.  For  papa 
larriage.  And 
money,  by  lum- 
Jolin,  and  then 
veling.  That  is 
^o\\  know,"  she 
ig  to  heterodox 

de  Icurs  perc^, 
Tip  cut  off  tlio 
It  on  it  as  each 

se  built  on  the 
Qcle  Frank — " 

those  old  days 
im,  but  a  dream 
ikes." 

than  yours,  to 
|al  said,  hastily. 

Of  course,  it 


A   LITTLE   MAID   OF  ACADIE. 


31 


is  not  clear  to  me.  It  is  just  a  strange  jumble  of 
moving  pictures,  in  which  I  somehow  lose  my- 
self." 

'SVnd  you  like  to  lose  yourself?  " 

''But  yes;  why  not?" 

lie  turned  toward  her  more  directly,  leaning 
his  elbow  on  the  bank  above  him,  searching  her 

•  face  as  he  asked  : 

*  ''You  would   like   to  go  back  to  those  old 
:^countries,  to  spend  some  time  there — this  autumn 

and  winter,  for  instance — with  your  mother  and 
vfiisters  ?  " 


rp 


The  child's  face  kindled  when  he  began  ;  but 
Iwhen  he  came  to  those  last  words  its  light  fell, 
and  she  only  answered  : 
I      "No." 

"  You  do  not  wish  to  go  ?" 

"  I  will  not  go.'' 
,      Then,  hurriedly,  in  a  startled  way  :  "Why  do 
^ou  ask  me  that,  monsieur  ?    I  may  stay  here,  is 
it  not  so  ?    I  may  stay  on  here  with  tantc  Mar- 
guite and  bonhommo  Pacifique  ?" 

"  So  Marguite  says.  She  tells  me  she  is  sure 
your  mother  will  let  you  choose  for  yourself,  and 
that  your  grandmother  insisted  on  the  freedom  of 
your  choice,  in  the  last  charges  she  left.  Frank" 
- — he  said  to  her,  suddenly,  with  a  change  of  tone 
|rom  the  matter-of-fact  one  of  a  moment  before 
"  my  dear  little  girl,  you  are  so  young,  and  you 


32 


A   LITTLE   MAID   OF  ACADIE. 


W4\i 


W 1 


III!' 


41 


have  no  friend  near  you  to  advise  you.  Will  you 
be  offended  if  I  speak  out  plainly  what  I  am 
thinking  ?  As  if — as  if  I  were  the  Uncle  Frank 
you  have  told  me  I  must  resemble.  Then  you  will 
be  sure  I  am  not  speaking  carelessly,  when  I  say  I 
fear  you  are  making  a  mistake.  Your  mother 
and  sisters  should  be  more  to  vou  than  a  crabbed 
old  woman  who  is,  after  all,  not  too  good  to 
you." 

"And  they?" 

The  words  came  with  emphasis.  Kendal'^ 
face  changed,  and  the  girl  saw  it  and  said,  with  a 
brusque  little  laugh  : 

"You  see  I  was  right  when  I  told  you  once 
before,  you  do  not  know  what  you  are  talking 
about. " 

"About  a  girl's  own  mother  and  sisters,"  was 
the  quiet  answer. 

"Ah,  yes.  And  it  goes  without  saying  that 
my  mother  loYcd  me  much,  and  that  is  why  she 
sent  me  away  to  grandmamma,  who  loved  me 
also,  without  doubt.  As  to  mesdemoiselles  mcs 
scBurs,  Marie  was  always  away  at  school,  until 
the  last  two  or  three  years;  and  Arsene  was  the 
next ;  and  Melerentc  and  Anne,  they  were  bes- 
seonnes." 

"  Besseonnes  ?  " 

"Eh,  what  do  you  call  the  same  day  born— 
they  had  each  other— why  should  they  trouble 


A   LITTLE   MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


33 


Will  you 
rhat  I  am 
aclc  Frank 
}n  you  will 
hen  I  say  I 
)ur  mother 
[1  a  crabbed 
00  good  to 


KcnduVs 
said,  "with  u 

Id  you  once 
are  talking 

sisters,"  wa> 

saying  that 
t  is  why  she 
|o  loved  me 
oiselles  mcs 
shool,  until 
;ene  was  the 
sy  were  bes- 


day  born- 
they  trouble 


I 


W  about  me  ?    And  a  cliild  of  my  ago  was  in  my 
I  mother's  way,  tante  Marguitc  says." 
'*  And  your  father  ?" 

The  question  escaped  Kendal,  and  in  the  very 
ntterunce  he  regretted  it.     But  not  when  he  saw 
ithe  light  that  dawned  m  her  face. 
*'  Mv  father—" 

She  said  the  words  over,  dwelling  on  them 

ith  a  softness  in  her  voice,  of  which  he  had  not 

bought  it  capable.     "  Ah,  yes,  my  father  loved 

e ! "  I 

The  blue  eyes  widened,  deepened ;  like  the 

kies  they  matched,  they  grew  large  with  a  happy 

rood  in  g.  ;. 

And  then,  with  a  little  stir  she  roused  herself 

out  of  her  dream. 

'■:,     "  Although,  of  course,  he  did  not  like  to  have 
Itne  with  him,  Marguitc  says." 
J     "  Of  course  he  did  not  like  to  have  you  with 
|iin?" 

I  ^Tor  I  was  too  much  like  Uncle  Frank." 
^nd  then  again  she  broke  off  in  a  startled  way  : 
f  *  You  know!"  she  cried,  breathlessly;  "you 
%now  ! " 

She  had  not  supposed  it  (for  why,  indeed, 
ould  a  stranger  knov/  anything  of  what  had 
me  to  pass  bo  long  ago  ?);  but  something  in  Dr. 


Lcndal's  face  now  startled  her  with  the  misdv- 


« 


:5S 
.1 


84 


A   LITTLE   MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


j;|i  iWi' 


ill 


t      ' 


1! 


lie  answered  her  reluctantly  : 

"A  little.  Some  idle  chatter  in  the  villa^'c 
to-day  supplemented  a  few  words  which  old  Mar- 
guite  let  fall." 

She  drew  her  breath  hard. 

"  It  was  she  who  told  me  too,  one  day  when  I 
liad  made  her  very  angry." 

"She  is  a  cruel  old  woman,"  Kendal  said, 
indignantly. 

*^  Poor  old  tante  Marguite,  she  did  not  mcar. 
to  be  cruel  !  I  think  she  was  sorry  the  moment 
she  had  spoken  ;  for  she  would  cover  my  bread 
with  marmalade  for  frippe  at  breakfast,  an  entire 
week  after.  Fancy  !  When  I  just  hate  marma- 
lade. She  thought  I  must  like  it  because  it  wa: 
English  ! " 

What  a  child  she  was  still !  Kendal  smiled 
too,  as  he  said  : 

"We  ought  to  be  friends,  on  Sydney  Smith'.- 
rule  of  friendship,  for  I  hate  marmalade,  too, 
But  you  didn't  eat  that  bread  the  whole  week, . 
suppose  ?  " 

"  Oh,  but  of  course  I  did.  You  know .' 
couldn't  let  poor  tante  Marguite  think  I  was  stii' 
angry  with  her,  when  I  had  behaved  very  ill  t 
her  too.  And  tante  Marguite  has  sometime! 
tried  very  hard  to  like  me  a  little.  Dr.  Ken 
dal— " 

"  She  must  have  had  to  try  very  hard  indeed;  1 


t 
fi 
n 


nc 
all 


Itl 


ind 


.ijiiMj 


ii:;M| 


!li 


.iBSf 


L* 


the  village 
ch  old  Mar-  | 


)  day  when  1  j 
iendal   BaiilJ 

lid  not  incan| 
the  moment  I 

ver  my  bread. 

ast,  an  entire| 
hate  marma-^ 

because  it  was  J 

:cndal  smiledi 

ilney  Smitli'ii! 
irmaladc,  too, 
kvhole  week,  i 

You  know '. 
link  I  was  stil 
red  very  ill  ^ 
las  sometime: 
[tie,  Dr.  Ken 

hard  indeed,' 


A  LITTLE  MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


35 


said  Kendal,  smiling  into  the  fair  little,  earnest 
face. 

-because  I  resemble  her  monsieur   Fran- 


(i 


,  )> 


901. s 

'•Some  people  have  a  knack  of  seeing  like- 
nesses," Kendal  put  in,  rather  staring  at  her. 
**And  your  grandmamma  ?'' 

"Eh,  c^est  frt — papa  fancied  when  he  sent  mo 
[to  her  I  would  comfort  her  for  Uncle  Frank  ;  but 
from  the  first  she  could  never  bear  to  look  at 
Imc— " 

She  broke  off  in  a  troubled  way. 
"I  would  never  have  said  anytliing — I  would 
[never  have  told  you  anything — but  that  you  knew 
ilready  from  tanto  Marguite.     You  are  sure  of 
that,  monsieur  ?  " 

He  laughed — just  a  little  shortly. 
*'I  am  sure  of  anything  you  say,  even  when 
rou  are  at  the  pains  to  show  me  you  hold  me  off, 
like  any  other  stranger,  from  all  that  concerns 
^ou.     I  ought  to  apologize  for  so  much  as  think- 


i!^ 


1J 


mug  of  interfering- 
He  was  taken  by  surprise  when  she  leaned  for- 
vard,  looking  at  him  with  eyes  suddenly  suf- 
fused. 

*'You  may  say  anything  you  wish  to  me,"  Dr. 
Kendal." 

"Finish  it,  Frank.     'For  you  are  my  friend, 
Ind  I  will  trust  you,  even  if  you  don't  say  any- 


% 


)  , 


■ 

1 

li'i 

:  1       !  . .  , 

i  m/- 

! 

1 

1 ' 

1 

1 

,  1."  ^  1 

iliniii 


86 


A   LITTLE    MAID   OF  ACADIE. 


thing  of  what  is  in  your  mind  to  bring  about  for 
mo.     And  if  tlic  clow  fail — '  " 

He  broke  short  ofT  tlicrc,  a^  if  in  truth  lie  had 
said  more  than  lie  intended,  of  what  was  in  his 
mind. 

Frank  Latour — do  Landrcmont  ? — the  clew 
ouglit  not  to  fail.  One  must  be  able  to  trace  it 
out  at  last,  although  it  may  take  time  and  trouble. 
But  little  Franf;oise  had  best  not  know,  until 
there  is  something  more  than  mere  conjecture 
or  coincidence.  Until  then,  let  the  past  be 
past. 

lie  turned  his  back  on  it,  witli  an  impatici  t 
movement  of  his  shoulders,  as  if  there  were  littK 
in  it  he  would  care  to  face  again. 

Frank's  face  was  a  pleasanter  study,  with  iti 
puzzled  little  frown. 

For  the  speech  he  had  dictated  to  her  was  iier- 
plexiug  :  he  had  put  it  all  into  English,  while  -li 
was  accustomed   to  eke    hers  out  with  a  bit  c 
jiatois  here  and  there.     And  she  was  not  at  al 
Kure  of  the  meaning  of  that  word  '*clew." 

But  sho  tackled  the  whole  boldlv  ;  and  eve: 
repeated  agaia  at  the  close,  quite  softly  : 

**For  Y'ju  are  my  friend — "  then  added  sunii  - 
thing  of  her  own  : 

"  For  vou  have  been  kinder  to  me  than  cvc 
any  one  was,  since  I  was  so  high,"  measuring  o:' 
with  a  wave  of  her  hand  above  the  tall  grass. 


8] 

w 
be 


is 


te 

f 

|Bre 
&ri 
«bs( 


iiii 


A   LITTLE   MAID   OF  ACADIi:. 


37 


(f  about  for 

o 

null  he  IkkI 
ii  was  in  bi-s 

9 the   clew 

0  to  trace  it 
and  trouble, 
know,  until 
•e  conjecture 
the    past    be 

an  impatici.t 
21-0  were  litAlc 

auly,  with  it 


0  her  was  vov- 
sh,  while  j-Ik 
with  a  bit  o: 
was  uot  at  ai. 
clew."  I' 
ly  ;  and  cvr  , 

f  tly  : 

n  added  sonie-^ 


height  ratlier  fitted  to  a  fairy  than  to  (lie  forlorn 

little  maid  of  ciglit  or  nine  years  who  had  been 

Bcnt  hero  into  exile.     *'  I  must  liave  seemed  un- 

rateful  to  you,"siio  went  on,  sliyly  ;  "  I  had  not 

een  used  to  very  much  kindness — 1  did  not  un- 

erstatul  it." 

**  Are  you  sure  you  understand  yourself  ?    For 
nstance,   my  little   mamsello   Frank,   you   have 
pokcn  of  yourself  as  cold-hearted  and  unloving  ; 
et  I  have  seen  you  in  a  passion  of  grief  for  one 
ho  was  certainly  not  everything  she  might  have 
een  to  you." 
She  edged  nearer  to  him  in  the  moonlight, 
.%ith  an  awed  look  in  her  eyes. 
R^     *'  I   am   afraid   of   death.      And   papa   died, 
nd  if  grandmamma  should  meet  him  at  once, 
,nd  tell  him  I  have  never  been  of  the  least  com- 
rt  to  her,  as  ho  sent  me  to  be  ?" 
*' But,  petite,  that  is  morbid.     Was  it  fault 
yours  that  your  fair  little  face  brought  memo- 
es too  sad  for  her  to  bear  ?    We  are  not  all  of 
is  like    you,  child  ;   some   of    us   will   not  face 
ilie  past,  but   run   away  from   it,   even   though 
e    know  the    ghost    has  little   to   upbraid   us 


me  than  cm 
measuring  ot 
he  tall  grass, 


r. 


)> 


His  tone  might,  to  an  older  car,  have  inter- 
eted  the  "  we  ''  as  something  more  than  a  mere 
rm  of  speech.     But  she  was  just  now  too  self- 
^sorbed,  in  a  child's  selfishness,  to  heed. 


s* 


*"—■ ' "'■■—  I  ■(•  rrtny  '  ifc«i 


^ 


ill 


1)1 


,;|iit|l 

m 


•  n 


it 


38 


A   LITTLE  MAID   OF  ACADIE. 


» 


"Then  you  do  not  think  I  am  to  llame  ? 
she  said,  eagerly.    "  I  would  have  loved  her  dearly 
if  she  had  let  me." 

"I  am  sure  of  it.  And,  Frank,  when  your 
mother — " 

But  the  softness  was  all  gone  out  of  her  voice. 
"That  is  different." 

"I  am  aware  of  that,"  he  said,  quietly. 
"  Every  one  is  different  from  a  mother." 

"But  you  do  not  understand.  It  was  she  who 
made  my  father  untrue  to  Uncle  Frank  ;  it  was 
she—" 

She  chec^'ed  the  passionate  outburst,  covering 
her  face,  as  Kendal  broke  ia  quietly  : 

"  Your  mother." 

"Yes,  my  mother  ?" 

The  calm  of  those  three  words  was  unchild- 
like  enough.  But,  as  ii  she  were  a  child,  he  put 
his  hand  on  the  tv/o  wiiich  she  let  fall  together ; 
covering  them  with  a  firm  pressure. 

"  Wait,"  he  said.  "Even  A\ere  it  for  you,  as 
her  child,  to  sit  in  judgment  on  her,  still,  you 
would  not  judge  unjustly  ?  Recollect,  you  know 
but  what  old  Marguito  has  told  you  ;  a  witness 
the  most  prejudiced — " 

She  shook  his  hand  from  her,  as  she  started 
to  her  feet. 

"  I  have  heard  too  much  already  !"  she  cried, 
passionately.     "  What !  you  would  have  me  be- 


I 


A  LITTLE  MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


30 


lieve  my  father  something  worse  than  Marguite 

has  taught  mo ;  not  the  dupe  of  a  false  woman, 
but  a  traitor !" 

She  flung  from  him,  with  that  last  word  ;  and 
Kendal,  if  he  had  had  any  answer  to  it,  could 
not  have  spoken  it ;  for,  swiftly  as  she  had  flitted 
out  of  his  ken  on  that  first  evening  when 
he  saw  her,  she  passed  from  him  now,  the  low 
firs  snatching  her  from  sigiit,  down  the  hill- 
side. 

Kendal  could  see  nothing  better  than  just  to 
mount  and  ride  away. 

So,  then,  what  had  been  gained  by  this  at- 
tempt with  a  legion  of  arguments  to  bring  this 
little  savage  to  terms  ? 

" '  The  King  of  France,  with  twenty  thousand  men, 
Marched  up  a  hill,  and  then  marched  down  again,' " 


Kendal  said  to  himself  rather  scornfully ;   and 
turned  his  horse's  head  f : .  home. 


-  ■>.-^.i'-:-t»'aJ.-.jt(»a4»i8aigat«hiite<ai 


40 


A   LITTLE   MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


( i.i'i 


lilliiill'::!. 


I 


U   1. 


1'  , 
illlil 


!|!li|i!llil|i;! 


iilliiM 


:!l!i;i!! 


!!!!ii!!!i 


■i': 
'in 


i 


IV. 


"...  the  one  maid  for  me." 

"  Dcarc  Dr.  Kendal : 

"  Tanle  Marguitc  has  been  some  daj-s  impairing.  Her  sick- 
nesse  is  not  extream  at  p'scnt,  but  she  wolde  be  much  satisfy'd 
if  you  came  to  visite  her. 

"  This,  by  the  hands  of  Jean  Jlichaud,  who  passes  to  the 

village — from  yours  to  co'mand, 

"  Your  friend,  Frank. 

*' Postscriptum. — Arc  you  well  angry  with  mo,  Dr.  Kendal  ? 
I  may  have  deserv'd  it — but  I  hope  you  believe  I  speake  my 
very  soule  to  you,  when  I  say  I  am  sorry." 

It  was  this  curious  epistle  which  reached  Ken- 
dal one  day,  some  three  weeks  after  the  great  De 
Landremont  funeral.  An  ambitious  reaching  out, 
on  the  child's  part,  after  her  half-lost  English,  he 
divined  ;  hut  where  did  she  get  her  quaint  style  ? 
Not,  certainly,  from  her  youthful  recollections. 
It  should  have  been  written,  not  in  the  French 
character,  but  in  the  square  and  upright  one  which 
belongs  to  the  days  before  the  long  S  had  gone 
out  of  print,  and  which  one  now  sees  only  in 
brown  ink  on  the  yellowed  pages  of  one's  family 
letters  of  more  than  a  century  ago. 

Kendal  was  thinking  this,  and  smiling  over  it, 
as  he  let  the  bridle  fall  on  his  horse's  neck  ;  when 
there  was  a  rustle  in  tho  long  grass  by  the  road- 


s 
I 

t 

t( 

t[ 
11 
T 

i:i 

an 
m; 


I  SCI 


nvr 


)f  t 


A  LITTLE  MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


41 


ing.    Her  sick- 
much  satisfy'd 


passes 


to  the 


end,  Frank, 
le,  Dr.  Kendal  ? 
re  I  speake  my 


■eachcd  Kcn- 
the  great  Do 
eaching  out. 
English,  lio 
uaint  style  ? 
ecollectioiis. 
the  French 
ht  one  whicii 
S  had  gone 
sees  only  in 
one's  family 


liling  over  it. 
eck ;  when 
by  the  roiid- 


sidc,  and,  as  he  glanced  up,  his  eyes  met  Frank's. 
But  why  should  ho  have  colored  crimson,  and 
thrust  the  letter  into  his  breast,  before  he  spoke 
to  her  ? 

He  dismounted,  and  walked  beside  her  in  the 
t;ingled  road  ;  and  she  looked  up  at  him  with  a 
lluslicd  face  for  an  instant  without  speaking. 
Then  she  said,  shyly,  in  French,  as  usual  : 

*'Tell  me  a  little,  monsieur  :  you  were  laugh- 
iigat  my  letter  ?  And  I  did  give  myself  much 
nains  with  it  !  But  it  is  the  first  I  ever  wrote  ; 
and  I  am  afraid  I  don't  know  how.  Would  you 
iiiind  telling  me  what  is  wrong  in  it  ?" 

lie  did  not  say  he  thought  it  quite  the  pret- 
.  tiest  letter  he  had  over  read,  especially  the  jiost- 
,  scriptum.     lie  only  asked  : 

''  Will  you  tell  me  first  who  taught  you  to 
write  English  ?'' 

*'0h,  is  it  so  bad  as  that  ?"  she  cried,  flush- 
ing again  with  mortification.  "I  thought  I  had 
Igotten  almost  every  word  right,  from  some  great 
ibooks  which  Uncle  Frank  left  here  —  he  had 
Istudicd  the  English  at  the  Fredericton  schools, 
t^■ou  see.     And  I  wanted  to  remember  it.     But  I 

■V 

|lon't  know  that  I  like  to  study  very  much,"  she 
indded,  apologetically,    *'  unless  I  can  carry  the 
|)ook  out  of  doors  somewhere — and  they  are  most 
hi  them  too  heavv  for  that." 
jj      "Will  you  let  mo  lend   you  some  that  are 


Ililil!! 


V 


^il 


■  .I'i' 


iiiii'ill'i 


^  I 


I 


:ii' 


fiilliilll 


m 


1.                 ;■   I 

-■  t 

'                      ;  ' 

42 


A   LITTLE   MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


lighter  every  way  ?  And  will  you  show  me  those 
you  have  which  you  like  most  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  should  be  glad  to  do  that !  "  she 
said.  "  There  is  the  *  Faerie  Queen ' — I  think 
that  is  the  best  of  all.  And  the  ■  Household  of 
Sir  Thomas  More '— " 

^'  But  that  is  not  an  old  book." 

*'  Isn't  it  ?" — puzzled.  '•  Grandmamma  said 
it  v'"^  though.  Tiiat  was  one  day  long  ago, 
when  \m  would  still  sometimes  leave  her  room — 
once  in  u  long  while,  you  know — and  come  out 
to  pace  up  and  down,  up  and  down,  the  path 
between  where  the  flower-beds  used  to  be.  It 
was  in  going  down,  that  she  passed  the  open  door 
of  the  lumber-room,  and  saw  me  in  there,  read- 
ing. It  was  an  old  book,  half  torn  ;  somebody's 
Diary,  I  remember,  and  stupid  enough,  it  told 
so  much  about  his  ncAV  coats  and  velvet  tunics. 
I  was  not  sorry  when  grandmamma  took  it  away, 
and  told  me  to  read  that '  Household  of  Sir  Thomas 
More '  instead — since  I  had  a  fancy  for  old  books, 
she  said.  But  what  I  did  not  like  as  well,  was 
that  she  came  into  the  lumber-room  first,  and 
looked  over  all  the  books,  and  made  Marguitc 
carry  off  the  most  to  light  the  fires  with.  I 
never  guessed  before  that  grandmamma  knew 
English." 

"I  am  afraid  your  grandmamma  was  not  a 
very  liberal  censor  of  the  press,"  said  Kendal, 


t 
^ 


A  LITTLE  MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


43 


me  those 

t!"  she 
-I  think 
sehold  of 


mma  said 
long  ago, 
)r  room — 
come  out 
the  path 
3  be.      It 
open  door 
lere,  read- 
omebody's 
,  it  told 
et  tunics. 
k  it  away, 
ir  Thomas 
old  books, 
well,  was 
first,  and 
Marguitc 
with.     I 
ima  knew 

was  not  a 
1  Kendal, 


•4 


smiling.  "Nevermind,  you'll  let  me  bring  you 
what  you  are  to  read.  And,  Frank — "  ho  added 
this  with  some  hesitation,  *'  there  is  the  long 
winter  before  you  and  mo,  and  we  neither  of  us 
have  many  friends.  Suppose  I  were  to  ride  down 
once  or  twice  a  week,  and  bring  you  books,  and 
see  what  you  had  read,  and — maybe  help  you  a 
little  in  it?" 

''Oh,  but  would  you  really  not  think  it  too 
mucli  trouble?''  She  turned  toward  him  in  her 
eagerness,  her  face  alight.  **  You  see,  the  winter 
is  so  sloAV  !  it  never  passes.  I'm  afraid  I  am  not 
very  fond  of  books ;  but  then  anything  is  better 
than  the  chimney-corner  with  only  tante  Mar- 
guite  to  speak  to.  And  this  is  what  I  have  to 
put  up  with,  half  the  winter-time  ;  for  we  never 
have  any  but  the  one  fire  in  the  kitchen  (grand- 
mamma's up-stairs  didn't  count,  you  know)  be- 
cause Pacifique  has  all  the  wood  to  cut,  and  he 
always  grumbles  if  too  much  is  burned  down- 
stairs. And  if  there  were  any  one  else  but  those 
two  to  come  in  sometimes  !  You  see,  in  winter 
one  can  not  be  out  of  doors  the  whole  day  long. 
And  so,  to  read — or  even  to  study — that  is  not  so 
bete,  the  idea." 

It  was  not  a  very  flattering  reception  of  his 
offer,  though  assuredly  a  frank  one. 

But  Kendal  had  made  the  offer  with  tlie  de- 
sire to  be  of  service,  and  ho  had  had  experience 


t . 


44 


A  LITTLE  MAID  OF  AC.VDIE. 


mn 


';   I 


i 

i 

r 

i! 

i! 

liii   • 

1 

'11 

ii 

il 

i 

! 

¥    1 

j 

i .  i  i 

i'' 

i 

f 

■   !i  Ii':i 

!l  1 1 

'1! 
ij 

f 

:      I 

■ 

1 

enough  to  know  that  services  are  wont  to  bo  ac- 
cepted more  readily  than  gratefully. 

Franyoise's  English  was  certainly  as  antiquated 
as  the  French  spoken  in  tiie  district.  But  it  ap- 
peared to  Kendal  no  heavy  task  to  carry  her  for- 
ward into  modern  times. 

The  winter  was  not  spent,  before  he  had  ad- 
vanced with  her  as  far  as  Tennyson. 

The  evening  he  brought  '-'  Enid  the  Fair"  to 
inii  >.'1uce  her  to,  began  like  many  another  in  the 
old  I'arm-kitchen.  Just  now  Kendal's  voice  had 
jwused  a  moment  in  his  reading  ;  for  on  the  other 
side  of  UiQ  wide  room,  at  either  end  of  the  spread 
supper-table,  stood  the  old  husband  and  wife, 
with  reverently  bowed  heads,  reciting  in  antipho- 
ny  a  sort  of  litany  of  grace  before  meat.  The 
logs  piled  up  in  the  wide  hearth  sent  red  lights 
flickering  about  the  walls  and  shining  floor  ;  the 
high  old-fashioned  dressers  with  their  rows  of 
burnished  tins  ;  the  spinning-wheel  in  its  chim- 
ney-corner ;  and  the  two  standing  figures — Mar- 
guite  with  her  sharp  features  shaded  by  the  white 
cap  she  wore  as  her  mother  had  before  her  ;  and 
solemn  Pacifique  in  his  new  lumberman's  dress, 
in  which  he  will  go  off  to-morrow  to  the  woods, 
resplendent  in  blue  flannel  shirt,  with  gay  silk 
handkerchief  knotted  about  the  throat,  and 
breast-plate  of  red  flannel  embroidered  with  a 
gayly-plumaged  cock. 


A  LITTLE   MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


45 


I  be  ac- 

:iqnatcd 
lit  it  ap- 
her  for- 
bad ad- 
Fair  "  to 
er  in  the 
oice  had 
the  other 
le  spread 
nd  wife, 
antipho- 
at.     The 
ed  lights 
oor  ;  the 
rows  of 
its  chim- 
es— Mar- 
the  white 
her  ;  and 
ti's  dress, 
le  woods, 
gay  silk 
oat,    and 
with  a 


All  things  come  to  an  end,  the  long  grace  with 
the  rest.  Pacifique  had  caught  up  his  shining 
pcwter-mng,  making  the  sign  of  the  cross  with  a 
sweep  of  his  arm  before  he  drank ;  the  two  old 
people  were  sitting  down  to  their  evening  meal, 
and  the  girl  was  saying  : 

^'  Go  on — go  on  !  "  impatient  of  her  reader's 
pause. 

Kendal  glanced  across  at  her,  from  under  tlie 
shade  of  his  hand  that  kept  the  direct  rays  of  the 
flickering  lamp  from  his  eyes.  She  was  sitting 
opposite  to  him  at  the  small  table,  her  arms  upon 
it,  her  face  framed  in  her  two  hands,  her  eyes 
fixed  in  breathless  listening  on  his  face.  Why  in 
the  TTorld  did  he  pause  so  long  ?  And  why,  when 
he  resumed,  did  he  turn  the  page  back,  not  for- 
ward : 

"...  Entering  then 
Right  o'er  a  mount  of  newly  fallen  stones, 
The  dusky-raftered,  many-cobwebbed  hall, 
lie  found  an  ancient  dame— 
And  near  her,  like  a  blossom  vermeil-white 
That  lightly  breaks  a  faded  flower-sheath, 
— Here,  by  God's  rood,  is  the  one  maid  for  me !" 

*'Why  do  you  stop  ?"  cried  Frangoise  again, 
'^and  go  backward?  and  why — eh,  you  have 
left  out  something  this  time  ! " 

Kendal  pushed  the  book  from  him ;  he  said, 
in  an  altered  tone,  half  lightly  : 


40 


A  LITTLE  MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


1  .1 


f 

piiiiiniiiii  1 

;| 

i; 

:  y 

'           ,  ■       t 

i 

"Frank,  the  old  place  will  soon  be  changing, 
Dame  Marguite  tells  me.  "When  the  leaves  come 
out,  *  the  dusky-raftered  hall '  will  be  coming  out 
too  in  new  colors  and  freshness.  The  quaint  rid 
paneled  doors  are  to  know  paint  again,  and  the 
long,  sloping  roofs  to  renew  their  coat  of  white- 
wash. Pacifique's  hoe  is  to  be  down  on  the  bram- 
ble-roses, and  the  sedge-grass  that  has  blotted  out 
the  garden-beds  ;  and  the  first  boat  that  can  come 
up  the  river  to  the  foot  of  the  falls  is  to  bring 
what  my  neighbor,  old  Niel  MacNiel,  would  call 
*braw  new  inside  plenishing,'  up  from  Frederic- 
ton.  And  then  everything  will  be  ready  for 
Madame  Jean  and  her  household  to  come  like  the 
summer  birds  over  the  sea.  And  about  the  old 
place  there  will  gather  a  life  and  brightness  such 
as  you  can  never  remember  here — " 

"  What  will  it  be  like  ?  "  she  broke  in,  eagerly. 

She  was  looking  at  him  with  a  wondering  ex- 
pectancy.    "  "What  will  it  be  like  ?  " 

"  Like  the  old  times,  perhaps.  Has  Marguite 
never  told  you  of  them  ?  " 

There  was  a  chill  of  disappointment  in  his 
tone,  at  her  eagerness ;  but  as  he  answered  her 
promptly  enough,  she  did  not  observe  it. 

**  Marguite  ?    She  never  tells  me  anything." 

'*  Perhaps  I  know,  then,  better  than  the  lady 
of  the  manor.  I  have  heard  it  mentioned  in  the 
village  how  gay  the  old  house  was  a  score  or  so  of 


A  LITTLE  MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


4« 


years  ago  ;  how  there  were  lines  of  carriages  from 
much  farther  down  the  river  than  Tobique-way  ; 
even  garrison-parties  from  as  far  as  Fredericton  ; 
and  music  and  dancing,  such  as  the  old  walls  and 
floors  would  tremble  at  now.'* 

The  girl  was  trembling,  in  a  quiver  of  excite- 
ment. 

*'  0  Dr.  Kendal !  will  it  be  so  again  ?" 
"  What  should  prevent  it  ?  "  Not  the  poor  old 
lady's  death,  he  said  to  himself,  rather  grimly. 
The  family  were  letting  time  enough  elapse  be- 
fore coming  to  take  posession  ;  and  surely  they 
could  do  so  then  with  the  proper  festivities,  after 
these  months  of  mourning  conceded  to  the  old 
house.  "Xe  roi  est  mort — vive  U  roi"  is  the  same 
all  the  world  over.  And  Frangoise — for  why,  in- 
deed, should  the  girl  mourn  ? — Frangoise  sitting 
over  there  now  in  her  shabby  gray  gown — 


"...  a  blossom  verraeil-white, 
That  lightly  breaks  a  faded  flowcr-shcath," 


would  blossom  out,  like  Enid,  in  all  her  spring- 
time bravery,  and  quite  forget  this  gloomy  winter. 

He  was  the  more  taken  by  surprise  when  the 
April  face  suddenly  clouded  over.  She  pushed 
back  her  chair  with  a  sharp  movement. 

"Me,  I  shall  run  away  to  tante  Marguite. 
You  know  that,  when  they  come,  she  means  to 
withdraw  herself  to  the  little  cottage  at  the  other 


I  i 


I  -. 


VM& 


!.:' 


m' 


f;, 


11 


irf 


I    'l»illlil!ri,ii!i;iiil 


li'lilli'!!! 


Mill 


M  iM 


m 


M 


A  LITTLE   MAID   OF  ACADIE. 


■■■> 


•^ 


% 


end  of  the  farm,  whicli  grandmamma  left  her. 
Me,  I  hate  change  ;  I  should  miss  the  old  free 
life — and  grandmamma." 

It  was  almost  the  only  time  the  name  had 
crossed  her  lips  since  that  evening  after  the  fu- 
neral, when  it  had  broken  from  her  in  a  storm  of 
vehement,  half -angry  tears. 

She  spoke  it  now  in  a  low,  reverent  way  which 
showed  that  the  bitterness  of  the  past  was  past. 
It  was  Kendal's  tone  which  had  the  bitterness  in 
it  now. 

"And  me,  Frank?"  he  said.  "And  me? 
Ah,  child,  may  you  always  be  so  honest  with  me  : 
even  when  it  is  to  show  me  I  am  nothing  to  you 
— not  even  to  be  missed." 

"Missed?**  There  was  anxiety  enough  in 
her  eyes,  in  her  voice,  to  acquit  her  of  in- 
difference. "You  are  not  going  away,  mon- 
sieur lo  doctor  ?  You  are  not  going  to  leave 
me  alone  ?  " 

'^     He  answered  her  with  an  odd  sort  of  smile, 
and  a  question  of  his  own  : 

**It  is  you  who  are  going,  not  I.  IIow  far, 
in  that  gay  new  life  of  yours,  from  the  village  doc- 
tor with  his  traveling  pharmacy  of  saddle-bags  ? 
Little  Frank,  as  yet  you  do  not  know  enough  of 
the  world  to  answer  me  that ;  but  you  soon  will 
learn." 

"I  shall  never  learn — never,  if,  by  my  learn- 


A  LITTLE   MAID   OF  ACADIE. 


49 


ing  the  world,  yon  mean  forgetting  my  best 
friends." 

She  reached  her  hand  out  to  him,  across  the 
table.  What  could  the  man  do,  but  seize  it 
with  an  eager  violence  that  almost  crushed  the 
small  fingers  ?  And  then  (old  Pacifique  had 
pushed  away  his  chair  and  was  turning  to  the 
door,  and  Marguite  was  busied  at  the  dresser, 
with  her  back  to  them)  Kendal  stooped  and 
brushed  those  Gngers  with  his  bearded  lips. 

^'  Frank,  if  you  would  let  me  be  your  best  and 
closest  friend,  indeed  :  if  I  could  teach  you  to  trust 
yourself  to  me  ! " 

He  spoke  so  quietly,  there  was  nothing  to 
startle  her,  so  she  said  : 

"But  I  have  learned  that  already." 

Kendal  did  not  so  much  as  raise  his  head 
and  look  at  her.  It  was  as  though  he  feared 
to  break,  with  slightest  movement,  the  spell  of 
some  dream  too  blessed  to  tarry  out  of  para- 
dise. Did  the  girl's  own  clear  and  steady  voice 
break  it,  when,  with  that  briefest  pause,  she 
went  on  : 

"  When  one  has  been  so  very  kind  as  you  have 
been  to  me,  that  is  a  lesson  which  surely  needs 
no  teaching." 

At  that  he  raised  his  head,  still  keeping  her 
hand,  but  in  a  quiet  clasp.  His  face  was  quiet, 
and  a  little  paler  than  before. 


GO 


A   LITTLE   MAID   OF  ACADIE. 


Ill    ' 


"  Lessons,  Frank — I  have  given  you  a  few  of 
these,  indeed — tiresome  things — " 

*'  Oh,  but  indeed,  indeed  it  was  good  of  you 
she  cried  ;  not  denying  Iiis  qualificative,  howe\ci. 
*' For  wlijit  should  I  do  without  them — I  who 
knew  nothing,  just  notliing  at  all  ?  I  should  have 
been  ten  times  as  much  afraid  of  mamma  and 
Marie  and  the  others." 

*' — And  while  I  have  been  giving  these,"  ho 
went  on,  taking  up  agivin  the  thread  of  his  speech, 
and  not  caring  to  break  it  off  with  any  discourag- 
ing hint  of  the  difference  between  his  method  of 
instruction  and  that  of  the  fashionable  masters 
her  sisters  had  no  doubt  had — "  and  while  I  h" 
been  giving  these,  did  you  never  once  think  W- 
you  have  been  teaching  me  ?" 

"/—teaching  you  9  " 

He  answered  her  with  a  slight  smile  of  mock- 
cry  at  himself,  as  he  let  her  hand  go. 

"  Any  boy  of  twenty  might  have  told  mo  I 
was  a  fool  for  my  pains.  But  so  it  was  ;  I  learned 
the  lesson  by  heart,  though  you  gave  it  without 
meaning  that  I  should.  Were  I  a  boy  of  twenty 
again,  I  might  hope  to  unlearn  it ;  but  not  now. 
Frank,  can  you  tell  me  what  it  is  ?" 

He  was  leaning  toward  her,  when  tante  Mar- 
guite's  heavy  tread  shook  the  floor,  and  she  drew 
out  her  spinning-wheel  at  the  other  side  of  the 
hearth. 


A  LITTLE   MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


61 


Sitting  over  against  the  low  ilax- wheel,  she 
was  expert  enough  to  be  able  to  divide  her  atten- 
tion between  her  shining  thread  that,  as  she  drew 
it  out,  canglit  here  and  there  a  gleam  of  the  leap- 
ing firelight,  and  the  thread  of  the  conversation 
opposite,  which  certainly  was  not  running  smooth- 
ly nor  brightly  at  this  moment. 

But  the  ma!i  could  not  stop  now  ;  the  suspense 
of  waiting  till  a  more  convenient  season  would 
have  been  unbearable. 

He  went  on,  trusting  his  glance  to  be  his  in- 
terpreter : 

"  Will  you  try  to  repeat  the  lesson  after  me  ? 
'  I  love  you.'     If  you  could  ever  learn  it — " 

Just  those  words,  '*I  love  you,"  in  the  Eng- 
lish, which  tante  Marguito  would  not  understand  : 
the  rest  in  French. 

And  in  French  Frangoise  was  answering  him, 
except  just  those  three  English  words  : 

** '  I  love  you.' "  She  said  it  blushing,  laugh- 
ing a  shy  little  laugh.  "  It  is  quite  easy,  indeed, 
Dr.  Kendal — and  I  don't  mean  to  forget  it^ 
though  I  am  not  twenty  ! " 

At  those  last  words,  his  face  clouded  over. 
Xot  twenty ;  a  mere  child.  What  right  had  ho 
to  bind  her  so  ?  When,  perhaps,  if  she  knew 
all— 

The  past  had  seemed  so  utterly  past  and  gone 
to  him  that  he  had  turned  his  back  upon  it,  even 


e 


52 


A  LITTLE  MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


in  his  thoughts.  But  now  he  must  look  at  the 
dead  thing  once  more ;  must  even  show  it  to 
Frangoise. 

"  Frank,"  he  said,  liurriedly,  "Frank,  I  have 
a  story  to  teli  you — " 

There  he  became  conscious  of  Marguite's  sharp 
eyes  observing  him. 

True,  she  could  not  understand  his  words  ; 
but  no  one  could  be  with  tante  Marguite  without 
feeling  sure  that  she  heard  and  felt,  as  well  as 
saw,  with  those  black-beaded  eyes  of  hers. 

Frank  looked  up,  as  he  stopped ;  and  she 
clasped  her  hands  half-gleefully,  half-teasingly  : 

"A  story  ?  A  little  history  ?  Ah,  yes,  let  us 
have  it.  Me,  I  know  none  but  tante  Marguite's, 
about  the  Christmas-eve  Cattle  and  the  Birds  of 
St.  Luc." 

*' The  Birds  of  St.  Luc?" 

"  The  oxen,  they  are,  you  know.  And  once 
tliere  was  an  old  man — " 

What  she  said  was,  ^'  A71  fors  y  'va  an  viert 
hnommc."  But  by  this  time  Kendal  was  suffi- 
ciently familiar  with  the  dialect  to  follow  easily 
enough  the  ancient  Breton  legend  of  the  master 
who  fell  asleep  one  Christmas-eve  in  the  manger, 
under  the  nose  of  his  oxen,  and  was  awakened 
after  midnight  by  their  talking  together  in  good 
Christian  speech.  Every  one  knows  (and  it  evi- 
dently has  not  occurred  to  Fran^oise  to  dispute  it 


I  ill! 


A  LITTLE  MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


58 


seriously,  though  she  does  glance  askance  at  Ken- 
dal to  see  how  he  is  taking  it)  that  the  cattle 
are  thus  privileged  this  once  a  year,  in  memory 
of  the  Child  who  shared  their  manger  on  the  first 
Christmas.  "  We  arc  going  to  bury  our  master  to- 
morrow, demoin,"  said  they.  And,  sure  enough  ! 
The  master  when  he  heard  them,  resolved  to  keep 
out  of  danger  by  not  going  to  church  on  Christ- 
mas-day, as  there  was  a  troublesome  ford  to  cross 
upon  the  road.  Instead,  he  went  to  the  forest, 
and  spent  tho  holy-day  in  wood-cutting.  Toward 
evening  he  was  coming  home  with  a  "  f/riis  out- 
arr/e "  of  wood,  and  had  reached  the  cross-road 
to  tho  church,  when  his  oxen  began  to  back  wildly 
away  from  it,  with  their  unholy  load.  The  old 
man  was  very  frightened,  until  he  bethought 
himself  to  stop  them  by  laying  two  logs  athwart 
the  load,  in  the  form  of  a  cross.  That  did  stop 
them,  of  course  ;  but  so  suddenly,  and  with  such 
a  jar,  that  the  master  was  thrown  heavily  forward 
to  the  ground,  and  the  solid  wooden  wheels  went 
over  him.  So  tho  oxen  did  bury  him,  after  all, 
scraping  a  hole  under  the  dead  leaves  with  their 
hoofs. 

"  He  was  a  very  wicked  man  ;  he  did  not  say 
his  penitence,"  Frangoise  wound  up,  nodding  sig- 
nificantly at  Kendal.  "  Tante  Marguite  can  tell 
you  what  comes  of  that,  and  how  sometimes  a 
great  frog  will  leap  up  in  the  woods  and  fasten  on 


1'^^^ 


54 


A  LITTLE  MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


iiii  ;!ii 


,il! 


ill 


II 


U 


one's  nose  for  punishment,  until  the  penitence  be 
duly  said." 

She  put  up  her  hand,  laughing,  to  her  own 
straight  little  nose.  "Me,  I  am  not  of  the  faith- 
ful," she  added,  more  seriously. 

Tante  Marguite  looked  suspicious  (  he  Eng- 
lish words.    She  must  have  divined  thcii  meaning. 

*'  It  is  all  Madame  Jean's  fault,"  she  said, 
shaking  her  head,  gloomily — "all  Madame  Jean's 
fault !  She  led  Monsieur  Jean  astray  out  of  the 
faith  ;  and  my  dear  madame  here,  she  would  never 
meddle  with  the  child.  *  Blood  can  not  lie,'  the 
dear  madame  would  say,  thinking  of  Madame  Jean. 
But,  passe  ! " 

Marguite  put  the  subject  from  her  with  that 
meaning  shrug,  and  set  her  spinning-wheel  in 
motion  again  with  the  hand  that  had  stayed  it  to 
deliver  this  thrust. 

That  the  girl  felt  it,  the  sudden  angry  sparkle 
of  tears  in  her  blue  eyes  showed  ;  but  when  Ken- 
dal would  have  spoken  for  her,  she  stopped  him 
■with  a  laugh — a  little  forced,  perhaps,  but  reso- 
lutely careless. 

"As  tante  Marguite  says,  passe  !  Monsieur  is 
not  my  breastplate,  to  recei'^e  these  thrusts  for 


me. 


5> 


"  If  I  might  be  ! "  he  said,  eagerly, 
could  but  teach  you- 


(( 


If  I 


?j 


This  time,  the  laugh  with  which  she  inter- 


r   ji 


1 1 


A  LITTLE  MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


55 


rupted  him  was  merry  enough.  Iler  girlish  in- 
stinct would  have  kept  her  silent  had  the  two 
been  alone  together  ;  but  she  was  safe  under  Mar- 
guite's  eyes. 

"You  sec,  monsieur  le  docteur,"'  she  said  in 
French,  shaking  her  pretty  head  at  him,  "you 
must  not  be  always  for  giving  lessons ;  and  you 
must  take  care  what  you  teach  me.  I'm  not  so 
very  dull  at  learning,  and  I  do  not  forget.  So,  if 
there  are  any  mistakes  made,  it  is  quite  your 
fault." 

"  Mercy  of  my  life  ! "  Even  Kendal,  through 
all  his  grave  burden  of  thought,  could  not  for- 
bear a  smile  at  the  shocked  tone,  and  the  way  in 
which  Marguite  resumed  her  spinning,  with  a 
vicious  push  to  the  wheel.  "It  is  just  a  wonder 
to  me  how  monsieur  le  docteur  has  ever  had  the 
patience  to  bear  with  mamselle,  lesson  after  les- 
son, and  she  with  no  more  gratitude  than  that. 
You  are  going,  monsieur  ?  But  I  don't  wonder, 
and  mamselle  idling  as  if  she  were  possessed  by 
the  sleepy  devil  that  makes  sinners  nod  in  church. 
But  monsieur  has  the  patience  of  an  angel ! " 

Now,  the  crafty  old  woman  had  her  own  opin- 
ion as  to  Dr.  Kendal's  patience.  She  thouglit 
that  was  sufficiently  explained  by  a  desire,  very 
natural  iu  the  village  doctor,  to  lay  the  De  Lan- 
dremont  house  under  such  obligation  as  would 
open  its  doors  to  him  in  tlie  briglitcr  days  that 


56 


A  LITTLE  MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


r 


:i   P 


h  Hi 


were  about  to  dawn  upon  it.  She  did  not  care  to 
set  herself  to  thwart  that  desire  ;  more  especially 
as  it  enabled  her  to  describe  the  various  phases  of 
her  rheumatism  and  have  them  prescribed  for, 
without  any  drain  upon  the  purse  of  which  she, 
not  Pacifique,  held  the  strings,  and  rather  tightly 
too.  She  did  not  grumble  at  the  lessons,  there- 
fore. 

This  one  was  evidently  to  be  cut  short.  Ken- 
dal found  it  impossible  to  treat  this  evening  as  if 
it  were  anything  else  than  the  gate  to  his  whole 
future.  What  lay  beyond  it — what  it  must  lead 
to— 

Ho  stood  looking  at  the  little  creature  who 
stopped  the  gap  and  would  not  let  him  see  beyond, 
and  was  saying  saucily  : 

"  Indeed,  tante  Marguite,  Dr.  Kendal  is  quite 
satisfied  with  my  progress,  and  even  telis  me  I 
have  taught  him  something.  Though,  indeed" 
— casting  down  her  eyes  demurely — "I  should 
never  have  had  the  assurance  to  try  to  do  that.'^ 

Kendal  glanced  wistfully  at  the  red  mouth 
quivering  with  its  suppressed  smile.  Was  he  to 
have  nothing  but  a  mocking  last  word  from  it  ? 
"Won't  you  light  me  out  ?"  he  asked  her. 

But  she  shook  her  head. 

"Tante  Marguite  will,  this  time,  I  am  sure — 
won't  you,  tante  Marguite  ?  I  must  go  over  my 
lesson.     I  promise  to  be  quite  perfect  in  it  when 


II' 


iv  .'i: 


>•?«». 


A   LITTLE   MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


57 


you  come  back — if  I  can,"  she  added,  lifting  her 
eyes  with  a  flashing  smile  over  the  screen  of  her 
open  book.     And  so  he  went  away. 

Somewhat  dizzily  ;  like  a  man  who  has  stum- 
bled perilously  near  a  precipice's  brink,  and  only 
just  stops  himself  in  time. 

But  had  he  stopped  himself  in  time  ?  Was  it 
not  already  too  late  to  consider  whether  he  ought 
to  have  wooed  this  child  ?  What  did  she  know 
of  love  ?  "  J'aime  "—"I  love,  I  like  "—it  was  all 
one  to  her.  As  he  plunged  into  the  dimness  of 
the  wood-path,  he  could  see  again  those  bright 
eyes  flashing  laughter  at  him  over  the  edge  of 
her  book. 

Eh,  well,  the  pain  was  only  his  ;  the  girl  would 
take  no  harm  if  this  evening's  lesson  should  not 
be  repeated. 

And  it  must  not  be  repeated  now.  The  man 
was  a  strong  man;  he  must  al^^  the  mastery 
over  himself.  A  little  while,  and  her  mother 
would  be  here  ;  Frangoise  should  choose  between 
them  then.  It  was  not  a  dazzling  lot,  that  of  a 
poor  country  doctor's  wife  ;  if  she  should  take  it, 
instead  of  the  new,  gay  life  of  which,  no  doubt, 
her  mother  would  set  the  door  ajar  before  her 
eyes,  it  should  be  with  them  wide  open. 

Meantime,  Kendal  was  very  far  from  giving 
her  up,  in  his  mind,  much  less  his  heart.  All  he 
could  do  to  win  her  trust  and  faith  he  would  do. 


I 


58 


A  LITTLE  MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


li 

liim. 


,!:  ( 


ii' 
|! 
"i 


.1! 
'  111 

m 


That  was  enough  for  the  present,  and  the  past 
might  wait. 

Away  oil  somewhere  in  the  distance,  some  rest- 
less brook,  released  from  winter's  bondage,  filled 
all  the  windless  hush  with  babble  of  spring's  com- 
ing. Up  the  hill-slope,  as  Kendal  crossed,  the 
rising  moonbeams  drifted  level  through  the  black- 
layered  fir-boughs,  and  caught  at  the  slim,  silver 
birches,  and  showed  them  rough  with  buds  against 
the  sky.  "  When  the  leaves  come  out ! "  Kendal 
said  to  him.self,  with  that  sense  of  hope  and  new 
life  which  the  spring  brings  with  it. 

A.nd  yet  to-night  old  memories  were  stirring. 
As  he  struck  out  of  the  wood,  he  had  fallen  un- 
aware into  a  certain  measured  tread,  catching  up 
a  snatch  of  a  glee  with  a  martial  ring  in  it,  once 
familiar  enough  to  come  to  his  lips  now  uncon- 
sciously : 

"  Wiicn  the  leaves  come  out,  down  with  the  streams  we'll  be 
sweeping ; 
We'll  waken  our  land  from  her  long  winter  sleeping." 

What  if  Latour  were  to  come  with  that  waking  ? 
Was  Frangoise  sleeping  now,  under  the  eaves,  in 
the  old  house  ?  To  Kendal,  us  he  shouldered 
aside  a  dusky  evergreen,  and  the  moon  flashed 
out,  it  was  as  if  her  eyes  shone  out  on  him  again 
over  the  edge  of  her  book. 

But  this  time,  it  seemed  to  him,  not  in  mock- 
ery. 


/«i 


;.';  1 


A  LITTLE  MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


59 


V. 

"My  heart* is  like  a  singing  bird, 

Whose  nest  is  in  a  watered  shoot ; 
My  heart  is  like  an  apple-tree, 
Whose  boughsr— " 

Only,  it  was  the  apple-blossoms  that  the  girl 
was  like,  as  she  sat  swinging  amid  them,  on  the  , 
low  bough  of  the  gnarled  tree  that  somehow  long 
ago  hud  straggled  outside  the  gate  to  the  road. 

For  there  was  a  gate  now  before  the  rambling 
De  Landremont  cottage,  though  the  unpracticed. 
eye  might  not  detect  it. 

Ratlier,  perhaps,  the  unpracticed  eye  might 
have  taken  the  whole  fence  for  a  succession  of 
gates  :  so  alike  were  all  the  sections,  with  their 
heavy  top  and  bottom  rail,  into  which  the  light 
upright  stems  fitted  like  pickets,  but  with  the 
bark  still  on.  It  had  as  rustic  a  look  as  the  pitch- 
pole,  or  the  old  ''  Virginny  "  fence,  and  the  green- 
ery pressed  nearly  up  to  it,  across  the  road. 

The  road  was  a  narrow,  disused  one ;  a  mere 
spur  of  the  highway  which  trends  away  and  away  . 
up  through  the  Madawaska  settlement,  beyond 
which  the  Acadians  merge  into  Canadians.  It 
was  seldom  that  any  one  nowadays  turned  round 
that  bend  :  and  when  Frank  heard  the  beat  of 


i 

'  ■ 

■  '; 

1 

,  i 

t 

■    i 

i 

.> 


H: 


60 


A  LITTLE   MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


hoofs,  she  never  thought  of  glancing  up  from  the 
long,  blue  stocking  she  was  knitting,  with  her 
head  bent  over  it  in  a  brown  study,  until  the  rush 
nearer  and  nearer  made  her  start. 

If  that  bright  bay  were  not  actually  running 
away,  his  driver  had  at  least  as  much  as  he  could 
do  to  prevent  it,  and  the  solid  fence  apparently 
in  front. 

But,  in  a  flash,  there  is  a  gap  in  it.  A  section 
of  it  is  lifted  out  bodily,  and  Fran9oise  stands  to 
one  side,  flashed  and  glowing  with  her  haste  and 
her  exertion. 

Outside,  in  the  road,  the  dust  blowing  about 
her,  her  homespun  dress  gathered  up,  apron-wise, 
over  her  blue  petticoat,  for  the  accommodation 
of  the  knitting  which  she  has  already  taken  into 
her  busy  hands  again,  she  has  nothing  to  mark 
her  from  the  bevy  of  filles  whom  the  traveler 
earlier  in  his  long  drive  had  met  returning  from 
school,  and  who  had  arranged  themselves  prettily 
along  the  road-side,  with  shy  nod  and  smile  for 
the  passing  stranger.  This  girl  looked  as  young 
as  some  of  those,  and  as  simply  dressed  ;  and  the 
young  fellow  felt  he  was  indemnifying  himself 
for  the  lack  of  excuse  toward  those  others,  when 
in  passing  he  leaned  out  toward  her. 

"Many  thanks,  my  little  one,"  he  was  saying, 
in  French  foreign  to  the  district ;  equally  foreign 
to  France  too,  Frank  was  sure,  as  she  caught  the 


A  LITTLE  MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


61 


Anglo-Saxon  intonation.  Something  else  she 
caught,  also — the  glitter  of  a  piece  of  silver  in  his 
hand. 

She  put  hers  out,  a  little  slowly,  in  response  ; 
and  he  deftly  tossed  the  coin  into  it.  The  next 
instant,  the  restive  horse  had  carried  him  beyond 
her  ;  and  she  speedily  effaced  herself  from  the 
scene,  pushing  through  the  thicket  bordering  the 
road. 

That  Avas  the  last  Frank  saw  of  him  ;  that 
glimpse  of  the  straight  young  fellow  with  the  fair 
hair  and  the  frank  face  as  beardless  as  if,  accord- 
ing to  an  old  Breton  superstition,  a  careless  priest 
had  touched  him  at  baptism  with  "the  oil  of 
girls. " 

It  was  the  last  she  saw  of  him  ;  but  not  the 
first  she  had  hea 'd  of  him,  she  was  very  sure. 

When  she  was  well  out  of  sight,  she  drew  a 
letter  from  her  pocket :  one  of  those  rambling, 
inconsequent,  gossipy  letters  which  Marie  would 
occasionally  write  to  her  little  sister,  now  that 
there  was  no  censorious  grandmother  to  inspect 
them.  And — yes,  it  was  in  this,  that  Marie  told 
of  a  certain  young  Englishman  who  had  come 
over  on  the  same  steamer  to  Halifax  —  Dallas 
Fraser  by  name.  ^*And  as  mamma  has  some- 
where, down  about  the  roots  of  her  family-tree, 
one  Euphemia  Dallas,  we  have  all  come  to  the 
conclusion  that  this  very  big  D  is  a  great,  um- 


mm 


•J'  ■ 


62 


A  LITTLE  5LVID   OF  ACADIE. 


brageous,  golden-leafed  branch  of  the  same  tree. 
Be  that  as  it  may,  he  is  to  cast  his  shadow  over  us 
in  the  skirts  of  the  forest,  what  time  the  weather 
as  well  as  the  calendar  shall  call  it  summer. 
Meantime,  he  is  doing  Canada,  wliilc  we  remained 
to  smother  in  spring  fogs  at  Halifax,  and  then 
made  our  way  toward  you  as  far  as  Fredericton 
here.  Will  the  weather  ever  let  us  get  any  far- 
ther ?  When  it  docs,  Mr.  Fraser  is  to  drive  down 
for  the  fishing,  from  some  place  opposite  Quebec, 
and  we  shall  drive  up  the  river  with  a  gay  party 
promised  us  from  here  ;  and  it  will  go  hard  if  we 
do  not  manage  to  wake  all  the  old  woodland 
echoes.*' 

Frank  crumpled  the  letter  into  her  pocket 
again,  as  she  strayed  on.  She  did  not  linger  in 
the  greenery,  within  hearing  of  the  horse's  re- 
turning tread,  when  the  visitor  should  find  the 
house  unoccupied  ;  for  Marguite  had  gone  up  to 
St.  Leonard's  to  confesse,  and  would  not  be  homo 
until  late.  In  fact,  the  sun  had  set,  when  Frank 
strayed  back  again,  and  found  the  old  woman 
busy  over  the  kitchen  fire. 

Marguite  turned  round  sharply,  as  the  girl 
came  breezily  in,  tossing  the  coin,  and  catching 
it  as  it  fell. 

"Heads  or  tails,  tante  Marguite?  If  it's 
heads,  it's  mine ;  for  you  will  own  I'd  a  very 
good  head  of  my  own,  to  earn  it.     You  should 


A  LITTLE   MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


G3 


have  been  here  to  see  liow  I  swung  that  gate 
open — " 

^'Comme  ga!  and  let  in  that  Nanon  Michaud's 
whole  flock  of  geese  !  I  might  have  known  I 
could  not  even  go  to  confesse — " 

*'  Without  missing  visitors  ?  1  doubt  you'd 
liave  liked  him  much  better  than  the  geese,  tante 
Marguite,"she  said,  good-humorcdly — "  this  kins- 
man of  Madame  Jean's." 

*'  Dame  !  what  is  the  child  driving  at  ?  " 

'MVhat  was  the  man  driving  at,  you  mean, 
tante  Marguite  ?  Straight  at  our  fine  new  fence, 
apparently.  Only  I  stopped  him  by  throwing 
the  gate  open.  Whereupon,  he  rewarded  me  as 
vou  see." 

She  showed  the  coin  in  her  palm,  with  a  laugh- 
ing air  of  triumph. 

"Mamselle  Fran9uaise !  Mamselle  Fran9uaise  ! 
to  think  you'd  have  gone  and  done  such  a  thing ! " 

*'^W^hy,  tante  Marguite,  the  gentleman — " 

*'  A  pretty  gentleman  ! " 

"A  very  pretty  gentleman,  indeed,"  says  the 
girl,  demurely.  ^'  Listen  a  little,  tante  Marguite  ; 
Madame  Jean  and  her  suite  will  be  down  upon  you 
before  you  can  turn  on  your  heel." 

"  Saint  Anne  help  us !  what  does  mamselle 
mean  ?  " 

"  That  you  may  call  on  the  best  saints  for  help, 
tante  Marguite,  but  if  you  don't  bestir  yourself, 


■ 

I 


IS* 


u 


A   LITTLE  MAID   OF  ACADIE.* 


Madame  Jean  will  find  you  here,  under  her  roof, 
instead  of  settled  under  your  own." 

"No,  that  she  shall  not!  There  has  been  a 
letter?  I'll  move  out  to  the  cottage,  vie  ct  bagues 
muves,  the  very  first  thing  in  the  morning,  you 
will  see  !  But  there  has  been  a  letter,  mamsellc 
Franyuaise  ?  Or  your  Monsieur  Tchouse,  did  he 
bring  a  message  from  Madame  Jean  ?" 

*'Ben,  tanto  Marguite  :  vie  et  hagucs  sauvcs  j 
I'll  stand  for  the  hagues,  for  I  mean  to  go  with 
you,  just  at  first.  No,  no  letter,  and  no  chance 
to  deliver  any  message.  But  the  pretty  gentle- 
man, my  Monsieur  Tchouse,  is  Madame  Jean's 
avant  coureur  :  none  other  than  our — what  is  it  ? 
— twentieth  possible  cousin,  who  has  lately  come 
into  a  huge  English  fortune,  and  is,  no  doubt,  a 
most  admirable  member  of  the  family." 

"Impossible — " 

"  But  a  fact.  If  you  had  been  a  wicked  here- 
tic, like  some  others — "  with  a  little  money  '*  and 
not  gone  to  confesse,  you  would  have  had  to  ask 
him  to  stay,  for  your  sins.  Me,  I  didn't  know 
wiiat  to  do  with  him,  I  own  it.  Besides,  he  1  id 
given  mo  this." 

She  was  tossing  the  coin  gayly  agaii  aoving 
to  and  fro,  the  firelight  chasing  her  slim  rhad^.v 
here  and  there,  as  it  flitted  about. 

Marguite  followed  her  with  her  sharp  little 
black  Dame  Partlet  eyes ;  keen  enough  after  the 


I 
I 


A  LITTLE  MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


65 


grain  of  corn  and  tlie  cartli-worni  (or  whatsoever 
may  represent  tliese,  to  tlie  human  Dame  Partlet), 
but  dull  of  vision  for  much  that  is  as  plain  to 
other  less  keen  souls  as  the  clouds  in  an  April 
sky. 

Frank's  blue  eyes  were  full  of  them.  They 
portended  just  such  a  blinding  shower  of  passion- 
ate tears  as  fell  upon  the  distaff  in  her  hand,  the 
very  moment  the  old  woman  had  pattered  out 
with  her  milk-jug  to  the  spring-house  under  the 
hill. 

And  so  he  had  taken  her  for  one  of  the  village- 
girls,  this  cousin  of  hers — of  her  mother's. 

And  she  was  just  the  same  as  they  ;  no  differ- 
ence. 

But  why  had  not  Dr.  Kendal  told  her  so  ? 
Tlie  passionate  child  was  as  angry  with  him  as  if 
ho  were  responsible  for  her  mortification. 

As  for  the  badge  of  that  mortification,  the 
piece  of  silver,  she  found  a  tiny  hole  in  it — or 
made  one — and  she  fell  asleep  that  night  with  the 
oin  strung  on  a  thin  gold  chain,  about  her  neck, 
and  heaving  with  every  stormy  heaving  of  her 
passionate  heart,  as  she  lay  and  dreamed  the  scene 
all  over. 

Only,  in  her  dream,   her  mother  stood  by, 

watch 'ng  with  a   strange  smile,  the   one  thing 

clear    to    Frank    in  that    misty,  half-forgotten 

face. 

5 


GG 


A  LITTLE   MAID   OF  ACADIE. 


Perhaps  that  part  of  her  vision  was  due  to  the 
fact  that  the  chair,  was  last  clasped  about  her 
neck  by  hcrmother^s  hand.  Franjoise  had  never 
worn  it  since  she  came  here,  and  tante  Marguitc 
held  the  slight  thing  in  her  hand,  in  unpacking 
the  child's  trunk,  and  delivered  her  first  sermon 
to  mamselle  Fran9uaise  with  Madame  Jean  for 
text. 

Franyoise  had  kept  it  hidden  away  ever  since 
— a  sort  of  fetich,  half  cherished  and  half  dreaded 
— before  which,  tucked  away  in  the  corner  of  her 
little  trunk  with  which  she  was  sent  home  to 
Madame  do  Landremont,  she  >''ould  kneel  now 
and  then,  looking  at  it  with  brooding  eyes,  as  if 
it  represented  the  mother  whose  actual  personality 
was  so  overlaid  by  tante  Marguite's  legends  and 
traditions,  that,  like  many  another  worshiper, 
little  Fran9oise  on  her  knees  was  not  sure  if  the 
object  of  her  cult  were  more  demon  or  more 
angel. 

And  this  it  was,  to  which  she  linked  the  coin 
so  lightly  tossed  to  her  by  Dallas  Fraser. 


A  LITTLE   MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


67 


VI. 

"  Tu  t'en  vas,  tu  d61aisses  ta  pcrsonne ; 

Tes  proracsscs  sont  des  angros : 
Til  m'avas  promis  la  foi  bonne, 

Aimer  ta  personnc  'usqu,  ti  la  mort — 
A  present  tu  m'  abandonnes, 

Tu  t'eloigncs  de  ce  port — " 

The  slirill,  wild  voice  was  disputing  for  the 
right  to  bo  heard,  with  the  deep  boom  of  the 
Grand  Falls  down  into  their  rocky  basin,  and  the 
rush  of  the  rapids  against  the  foot-rocks  of  the 
walls  which  shut  that  basin  in  : 

*'  Mon  batimaine  est  mouill6  en  rade — 
Trois  de  mcs  camaradcs 

Qui  vont  voguer — 
J'en  tends  la  cloche  qui  sonne : 
Ma  mignonne, 

Faut  s'embarqucr." 

Evidently  the  lover  in  the  song  had  '^  one  foot 
on  sea  and  one  on  shore,"  and  took  his  leave  in 
jolly  strain.  But  his  "  personne  "  had  the  last 
word,  with  her : 

"  Triste  'oiture  qu'  an  vaisseau — 
Triste  'oiture  qu'  an  vaisseau"— 

and  the  singer's  voice  changed  into  that  wild,  de- 
spairing cry  that  had  pierced  through  the  boom- 


68 


A   LITTLE  MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


ing  of  the  waters,  and  reached  the  ear  of  a  man 
clambering  down  the  steep  face  of  the  cliff  above 
her. 

lie  had  come  here  to  see  the  rapids,  and  the 
curious  wells  formed  in  the  rocks  among  them. 
But  now  it  is  the  singer  who  draws  him  down 
from  crag  to  crag,  until — 

Yes,  there  she  lies  in  the  sunshine  on  the  rocks ; 
a  little,  curled-up  figure,  with  round,  half-bared 
arm  flung  across  the  upturned  face,  so  that  hardly 
anything  is  to  be  seen  of  it  but  the  red  lips  shrill- 
ing forth  the  ditty. 

So  pretty  a  picture  she  makes  there,  that  the 
man  who  has  just  burst  upon  it  stands  to  look. 
Startled,  too  ;  for  she  has  chosen  her  resting-place 
amid  such  a  fury  of  waters,  that  he  half  puts  out 
his  arm  as  if  an  inadvertent  move  of  hers  might 
send  her  slipping  off  the  rock's  smooth  surface 
down  into  the  torrent. 

As  he  looks,  the  very  rocks  seem  to  heave  with 
the  long,  rhythmic  upheaval  of  the  rapids.  The 
waters  rise  and  fall  like  the  ground-swell  of  a 
heavy  sea,  only  broken  into  broad  swaths  that 
twine  under  and  over  one  another,  in  and  out. 
The  brown  translucent  water,  fretted  as  it  is  with 
snowy  spray  against  the  base  of  the  steep  cliffs 
that  close  the  gorge  on  either  hand  ;  the  flakes  of 
foam  swept  downward  in  the  current  from  the 
cataract  above  ;  the  blue-green,  yellowed  here  and 


A  LITTLE  MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


G9 


there,  of  firs  and  spruce-trees  standing  stiff  and 
dour  in  the  cleft  precipice's  face  ;  the  shimmer- 
ing silver-stemmed  birch  a-tremble  in  the  breeze 
above ;  the  ferns  and  mosses,  and  the  lichens 
many-hued,  that  paint  the  walls  of  this  rock- 
chamber,  which  a  sudden  turn  in  the  sharp  preci- 
pice shuts  in — it  all  photographs  itself  in  the  yel- 
low afternoon  light  on  the  young  man's  mind,  as 
the  background  to  that  picture  of  the  figure  prone 
upon  the  rocks. 

A  child's  figure  ? 

Half  he  hesitates ;  till,  peeping  from  beneath 
the  dimpled  elbow  as  she  lies,  he  catches  sight  of 
a  thin  black  book — "  PriiViOi — " 

That  is  all  there  is  to  be  seen  of  the  title  ;  but 
it  seems  to  be  enough  to  give  him  leave  to  stoop 
and  put  his  hand  upon  her  shoulder,  giving  it  a 
little  shako,  as  the  torrent  drowned  the  sound  of 
his  tread. 

"  My  dear—" 

She  was  on  her  knees  in  an  instant,  that  being 
the  position  the  most  swiftly  attainable  on  the 
slanting  rock.  The  small,  round,  lifted  face  was 
just  one  of  those  over-leaning  rock-roses,  for  color, 
as  he  looked  down  into  it,  and  said  : 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  but  I  have  quite  lost  my 
way,  and  I  think  you  could  put  me  into  it.  Be- 
sides," he  added,  with  a  smile,  ''  I  am  afraid  you 
are  playing  truant  down  here.     It  will  never  do 


70 


A  LITTLE  MAID   OF  ACADIE. 


m 


to  waste  the  whole  day,  and  your  primer  all  un- 
learned.'' 

She  had  caught  up  the  little  book,  folding  it 
in  her  apron,  as  she  looked  down,  blushing  still. 
Was  she  so  much  ashamed  of  playing  truant  ? 
"Plait-il?"  she  said,  as  if  she  had  not  under- 
stood ;  and  then,  thinking  better  of  it,  *•  Where 
is  it  monsieur  wishes  to  go  ?  " 

**  To  the  old  De  Landremont  place.  Do  you 
know  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  know  it.  If  monsieur  goes  up  to  the 
bridge,  and  then  into  the  woods  beyond — " 

"But  it  is  precisely  short  of  the  bridge  that  I 
have  lost  myself.  Up  there,  above  the  cliffs,  the 
clumps  of  evergreens  have  planted  themselves  out 
in  the  most  bewildering  of  labyrinths,  among 
which  one  may  very  well  need  a  guide." 

She  opened  her  blue  eyes  wide. 

"  Monsieur  is  a  stranger,  then  ?  Perhaps  the 
English  cousin  who  is  expected  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  am  the  cousin,  certainly.  Is  the 
neighborhood  expecting  me  ?"  he  said,  half  laugh- 
ing ;  "  for  I  understand  the  family  have  not  ar- 
rived." 

"Eh,  not  the  neighborhood  ;  they  never  heed 
what  passes  under  the  De  Landremont  roof.  But 
tante  Marguite — she  that  used  to  be  housekeeper 
there — had  a  letter  bidding  her  make  ready,  that 
the  family  were  coming,  and  guests  with  them." 


A   LITTLE  MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


71 


"  Tante  Marguite  ?  "  What  a  dainty  little 
creature,  for  a  niece  to  the  housekeeper  ! 

**  Couldn't  you  manage,  since  through  your 
good  aunt  we  are  in  a  manner  acquaintances,  to 
guide  me  through  the  firs  ?" 

She  rose  to  her  feet,  tilting  her  hat  over  her 
face,  and  deftly  gathering  up  the  folds  of  her 
homely  dress  in  such  a  fashion  as  that  no  mascu- 
line eye  would  detect  its  proper  "grown-up" 
length.  To  be  sure,  now  that  she  was  standing, 
the  young  man  thought  her  rather  tall  to  be  pur- 
suing her  studies  in  a  primer.  But  then  he  re- 
flected how  backward  must  be  education  in  this 
part  of  the  world ;  and  the  little,  dimpled,  child- 
ish face — 

"And  yonder  is  your  school-room,  down  among 
the  waters  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  does  not  monsieur  like  it  ?  " 

"  So  well  that  I  wish  I  might  learn  my  book 
there,  one  of  these  bright  days." 

But  the  girl  took  no  notice  of  the  questioning 
inflection  ;  and  he  fell  back  upon  the  orthodox 
inquiries  one  makes  of  a  school-girl  concerning 
her  studies. 

"  It  is  not  the  French  abece,"  he  said,  stoop- 
ing slightly  for  a  glance  at  her  black  primer ; 
which,  however,  he  failed  to  get,  as  it  was  still 
wrapped  in  the  apron,  not  to  show  him  that  it 
was  a  recent  hand-book  primer  of  English  liter- 


1 1 


72 


A   LITTLE  MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


,  Ji 


ii 


ature.  "  They  teach  you  English  at  the  school  ?  " 
lie  said,  in  English. 

The  Sisters  who  teach  pass  the  regular  exami- 
nations as  public-school  teachers,  rran9oise  told 
him. 

"  Me,  my  English  has  its  faults,"  she  added, 
demurely,  dropping  her  French;  "my  remem- 
beree  is  not  too  good." 

"  Is  it  not  ?"  said  Eraser,  laughing  ;  regretting 
the  laughter  the  next  moment,  as  it  seemed  to 
have  the  effect  of  silencing  the  little  creature  trip- 
ping on  before  him. 

The  steep  climb  to  the  summit  of  the  cliff  had 
been  made,  and  they  paused  on  the  brink  to- 
gether, for  a  moment's  looking  down  upon  the 
gorge,  and  on  the  wild,  white  water  beating  and 
tearing  its  way  out  of  those  towering  prison-walls. 
And  then  the  two  went  on  among  the  shrubbery- 
like clumps  of  evergreens,  where  Dallas  Eraser 
might  well  have  lost  himself  in  the  labyrinth,  as 
he  had  said.  But,  after  all,  was  it  not  as  good  a 
method  as  any  other,  of  ridding  himself  of  a  long 
afternoon  ?  He  was  quite  sure  of  it,  when  he 
brought  his  roving  glance  from  the  tangled  green- 
ery upon  all  hands,  back  to  the  little  creature 
tripping  on  demurely  at  his  side. 

"  I  hope  I  am  not  taking  you  too  far  out  of 
your  way  ?  "  he  said,  comfortably  ;  not  from  any 
intention  of  releasing  her,  but  to  hear  her  voice 


m 


ifrii^ 


A  LITTLE   MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


73 


again.  Then  he  leaned  forward,  trying  to  see  licr 
face  ;  and,  failing  : 

**Are  you  not  leading  me  blindfold  ?  Fori 
am  quite  sure  you  can  not  find  your  way  out  of 
the  depths  of  that  hat — I  have  quite  loct  yon 
in  it." 

**  But  then  that  does  not  matter,  as  monsieur 
is  not  looking  for  me,  but  for  the  road."  Then 
she  pushed  it  back  a  little,  glancing  up  at  him. 

"  I  don't  wear  it  all  the  time.  It  is  only  my 
study-cap  ;  it  shuts  out  everything  but  the  book, 
vou  know." 

*'  Envious  thing  !  I  am  glad  you  don't.  And 
you  come  here  to  study  every  day  ?  " 

"When  I  have  nothing  better  to  do." 

"  Then  there  are  things  better  ?" 

"  But,  yes  ;  much  better.  For  instance,  when 
I  go  out  for  a  long  day  on  the  barrens,  and — 
ramosse  des  gran  ages — what  you  call,  pick  ber- 


ries. 


» 


"The  berries  are  for  your  —  aunt  Margot, 
isn't  it?" 

She  lifted  her  eyes,  with  a  malicious  laugh  in 
them.  Would  he  be  very  much  discomfited  at 
finding  that  she  was  his  cousin  :  she  whom  he  had 
evidently  taken  for  the  housekeeper's  niece  ? 

He  had  caught  the  gleam  of  amusement  in  her 
glance. 

"  How  stupid  I  am  I"  he  cried.     " Of  course 


71 


A   LITTLE  MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


mm 
■I'll 


it  was  you  !  You  were  at  the  gate,  and  opened  it 
to  me  when  my  horse  was  running  away.  That  I 
am  here  safe  and  sound  I  owe  to  you." 

A  tide  of  crimson  flooded  the  girl's  face. 
Owed ! — she  recalled,  well  enough,  how  he  had 
paid  that  debt. 

That  coin  w^as  like  a  seal  upon  her  lips.  Why 
should  she  confess  to  him  who  she  really  is  ?  He 
will  go  away  soon,  and  he  need  never  know. 

Surely,  she  could  keep  cut  of  his  way  for  a  fevr 
days.  If  need  be,  she  could  stay  with  tante  Mar- 
guite  till  he  is  gone. 

They  had  skirted  Grand  Falls  village  by  this 
time ;  and  the  rush  of  waters  under  the  suspen- 
sion-bridge, as  the  two  crossed  it,  took  away  all 
occasion  for  speech,  if  his  words  called  for  any 
answer.  The  smooth  river,  glowing  in  the  slant- 
ing beams  with  soft,  changeful,  opalescent  lights, 
speeds  calmly  to  the  very  brink  of  the  wide  horse- 
shoe, all  the  curve  of  which  it  fills  with  glancing 
rainbow  spray,  as  it  fills  the  tranquil  evening  and 
the  darkening  chambers  of  the  winding  gorge 
with  the  clamor  of  its  thunderous  voices.  Other 
voices  sink  into  instinctive  silence.  The  grave- 
browed  haUtant  on  foot  nods  a  mute  salutation 
to  his  neighbor  plodding  home  behind  his  oxen, 
whose  ponderous  tread  upon  the  bridge  falls  as 
noiselessly  as  that  of  the  moccasined  Indian,  slip- 
ping like  a  sun-bronzed  shadow  past  the  curve  of 


A.  LITTLE   MAID   OF  ACADIE. 


Y5 


woods.  Fran9oise  shows  him  by  a  slight  gesture 
to  her  companion  ;  but  does  not  explain,  until, 
on  the  sloping  road  beyond  the  gorge,  they  look 
down  toward  the  cataract. 

Then  she  tells  Dallas  Fraser  its  old  Indian 
tradition  :  of  the  brave  Milicete  girl  taken  prisoner 
by  a  hostile  band,  who  forced  her  to  act  as  guide 
in  a  descent  on  her  own  tribe  ;  and  how  she  led 
the  descent  in  her  canoe,  straight  for  the  treacher- 
ous falls,  and  death  with  her  tribe's  enemies. 

She  told  it  with  a  sparkle  in  her  eyes,  at  which 
Dallas  protested  he  could  not  but  feel  uneasiness, 
lest  that  sort  of  thing  should  bo  the  prevalent 
fashion  for  guides  all  about  Madawaska.  At 
which — for  it  takes  little  enough  to  set  two  young 
people  laughing  together  on  a  golden  summer  aft- 
ernoon— they  went  on  merrily,  by  a  short-cut, 
where  Frank  flitted  past  him,  glancing  back  at 
him,  over  her  shoulder,  with  a  nod  : 

"Follow  me — if  you  can  trust  me  !  " 

For  a  few  yards  plunging  deep  into  the  thicket, 
where  her  brown  hands  held  back  the  boughs  to 
let  him  through.  To  leave  herself  the  freer,  she 
liad  caught  her  gown  up  through  her  belt,  in  a 
festoon  here  and  there,  that  gave  a  g  Impse  of  a 
dark-blue  petticoat,  and  a  foot  and  ankle  in  keep- 
ing with  the  pretty,  rounded  figure.  It  was  well 
worth  watching  in  its  supple  motions,  as  it  went 
on  before  him,  so  free  and  natural,  with  such  an 


76 


A  LITTLE  MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


utter  absence  of  self-consciousness,  such  an  igno- 
rance of  the  charming  moving  picture  she  made  in 
the  rather  washed-out  liomespun  ;  the  trouble- 
some hat  dangling  now  from  her  arm,  and  sundry 
rebel  locks  breaking  out  of  confinement  and  curl- 
ing softly  all  about  her  warm  white  neck  and 
that  crumpled  rose-leaf  of  an  ear. 

Somehow,  Dallas  did  not  regret  the  narrow- 
ness of  the  path,  that  would  not  admit  of  tvro 
walking  abreast.  One  may  take  a  more  com- 
fortable look  at  a  pretty  thing  like  that,  when  not 
sto^Dped  by  a  pair  of  frank  and  sudden  eyes  that 
have  a  trick  of  intercepting  such  a  look. 

But  he  was  stopped  suddenly  by  a  quick, 
startled,  almost  frightened  gesture  from  the  girl. 

She  stood  in  the  path,  her  two  arms  raised  to 
ward  off  a  tangle  of  wild  brier  which  the  wind 
flung  toward  her.  But  she  forgot  it,  and  stood 
motionless  in  a  listening  attitude. 

Dallas  went  to  her  hastily.  He  could  not  see 
her  face,  nor  the  object,  whatever  it  might  be,  at 
which  she  was  gazing  so  intently.  From  his 
standpoint,  there  was  a  blank  of  greenery  all 
about.  Onlv,  on  one  round  arm  still  raised  me- 
chanically  to  ward  off  the  briery  bough — on  that 
arm,  bared  to  the  dimpled  elbow  by  the  brier 
catching  at  her  sleeve,  he  saw  a  sharp  red  line,  a 
crimson  drop  that  trickled  down. 

The  sight  of  blood  may  turn  some  men  pale. 


■::l! 

■ii ' 


A   LITTLE  MAID   OF  ACADIE. 


77 


but  it  brought  the  liot  color  into  Dallas  Fraser's 
face.     lie  pushed  in  between  her  and  the  thorns. 

"You  have  hurt  yourself — for  me  !  " 

She  shook  off  his  touch  with  an  impatient 
movement.  She  hardly  heard  his  words ;  she 
was  not  even  looking  at  him.  She  put  her  finger 
to  her  lips  with  a  gesture  of  silence,  still  in  that 
expectant  and  yet  shrinking  attitude.  And  as 
they  stood  thus  for  an  instant,  there  came  to  his 
ear  also  the  sound  which  had  reached  hers  first : 
the  sound  of  wheels  approaching. 

"  We  are  near  the  road,  then  ?"  ho  said. 

As  he  stepped  before  her,  the  green  boughs 
gave  way  like  a  curtain  swept  aside,  and  showed 
him  the  overgrown  road  ;  and,  breast-high  in  the 
weeds,  a  pair  of  grays  drawing  a  close  traveling- 
carriage. 

<'It  must  be  Mrs.  de  Landremont  arrived  at 
last  !  "  said  he,  turning  toward  his  guide. 

But  she  was  no  longer  at  his  side.  There  was 
the  flutter  of  a  homespun  dress,  a  rustling  through 
the  thicket ;  and  he  stood  alone  upon  the  bank 
above  the  road,  along  which  came  the  carriage. 

The  carriage  ? — no,  but  two,  three — quite  a 
procession,  looking  very  much  like  conveyances 
gathered  athap-hazard  in  the  village.  Out  of  the 
foremost,  a  charming  face  he  knew  was  leaning 
from  the  window,  smiling  and  nodding  to  him. 


■^^ 


i 


78 


A  LITTLE   MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


VII. 


li 


41 


"Free  Heart,  that  sin{;est  to-day 
Like  a  bird  on  the  first  green  spray, 
Wilt  thou  go  forth  to  the  world 
Where  the  hawk  hath  hla  M'ing  unfurled 
To  follow  perhaps  thy  way  ? 
Where  the  tamer  thine  own  will  bind, 
And  to  make  thee  sing,  will  blind — 
While  the  little  hip  grows  for  the  free  behind  ? 

Heart,  wilt  thou  go  ? —  . 

Ah,  no ! 

Free  hearts  are  better  so." 

"But  where  is  Frank?"  said  the  owner  of 
that  charming  face,  not  many  moments  later, 
pausing  at  the  foot  of  the  cloor-stei)s,  by  which 
most  of  the  little  procession  that  had  come  gayly 
up  from  the  gate  to  the  house  had  already  disap- 
peared within. 

Marie  asked  the  question,  and  the  girl  behind 
her — who  looked  indeed  like  an  embodied  echo  of 
her — emphasized  it,  "  Where  is  Frank  ?  " — with 
apparently  little  expectation  of  an  answer,  as  she 
gazed  helplessly  about  her. 

There  was  neither  shrubbery  nor  undergrowth 
now,  to  hide  so  much  as  a  mouse,  in  the  level 
space  which  Pacifique  had  trimmed  up  until  it  was 
anything  but  ornamental.     Trim  it  was,  indeed  ; 


A   LITTLE   MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


Vj 


an  array  of  formal  beds,  in  wliich  no  flowers  were 
get  out  as  yet,  and  only  the  whitewashed  stones 
pointed  out  their  places.  All  the  ferns  had  been 
uprooted,  and  the  sumacs  and  the  brier-roses  de- 
molished. Franyoiso  might  not  like  it  as  well 
as  in  its  days  of  ragged  picturesqueness  ;  but  it 
was  a  model  of  neat  precision.  Even  the  old 
house  had  a  rejuvenated  air,  with  its  fresh  paint. 
Its  very  disheveled  vines  were  stroked  down  into 
decorous  bands  that  lay  smoothly  above  the 
windows  no  longer  staring  out  like  empty  eye- 
sockets  ;  but  curtained,  and  with  a  certain  look 
of  quiet  possession,  observable  about  the  whole 
face  of  the  house.  Bonhonime  Pacifique  potter- 
ing about  the  littered  yard  had  been  in  keeping 
with  the  past  regime.  Under  the  present,  a  maid 
tripped  briskly  forward  from  the  spring-wagon 
turning  from  the  gate,  to  take  the  ladies'  shawls  ; 
and  another,  a  staid  elderly  body  sent  back  by 
Mrs.  de  Landremont,  stood  waiting  a  respectful 
instant  to  show  the  way  indoors. 

"  Please,  miss,  your  mamma  says  it  is  not  long 
before  dinner." 

^^  And  we  must  make  ourselves  beautiful  for 
it ;  and  if  Mr.  Fraser  has  not  changed  since  when 
we  knew  him  on  shipboard,  a  dinner — even  the 
sort  of  picnic  dinner  which  I  am  afraid  is  all  we 
can  expect  to-day — served  at  the  fitting  moment, 
is  not  a  matter  of  sublime  indifference.'* 


^MMM^RIi 


80 


A  LITTLE   MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


That  same  brilliant  face  turned  round  upon 
Frascr  with  a  laugh  ;  and  the  last  of  the  proces- 
sion vanished  in  the  doorway. 

Up-stairs  the  burden  of  the  question  was  taken 
up  again  : 

*'  Where  on  earth  can  Frank  be  all  this 
while  ?  " 

It  was  in  the  old  madame's  repainted,  spotless 
rocms,  where  the  ancient  mahogany  looked  so 
gloomy  and  heavy  ;  and  like  an  answer  came  a 
sligiit,  uncertain  stir  in  the  inner  room. 

Mrs.  de  Laudremont  did  not  hear,  leaning 
listlessly  back  as  she  was  in  madame's  own  easy- 
chair  in  the  window  ;  nor  did  Arsdne,  who  stood 
gazing  dismally  out  of  it.  *'I.  did  not  know  it 
would  all  be  as  new  and  bald  and  four-square  as 
it  is  !  There  is  not  a  nook  or  a  corner  for  a 
bit  of  romance  about  it.  Mamma,  if  tJiis  was  the 
sort  of  home  Evangeline  was  con-ied  off  from — " 

But  Marie,  turning  round  from  the  mirror, 
had  caught  sight  of  a  little  homespun  figure  hesi- 
tating on  the  threshold  of  the  other  doorway, 
with  a  hand  upon  the  lock,  in  the  act  of  flight. 

"  There  is  some  one,  mamma,  who  perhaps  will 
know  where  io  find —    Frank,  can  it  be  vou  ?" 

Frank  left  the  handle  of  the  door,  and  came 
forward,  half  proudly,  half  shyly. 

She  was  made  aware  of  her  sister's  mistake, 
by  the  startled  change  of  tone,  as  the  wearer  of 


*:- 


A   LITTLK   MAID  OF   ACADIE. 


81 


tho  homely  frock  turned  lier  face  slowly  round. 
Frank  was  not  surprised  by  the  mistake  :  her  only 
wonder  was,  that  the  tall  and  dainty  creature  in 
gray  serge  and  silk,  who  came  rustling  to  meet 
her,  could  be  her  sister. 

Yes  ;  and  Arsc^nc,  too. 

Frank  certainly  felt  herself  at  fault  as  they 
embraced  her,  ai)d  exchanged  glances  with  lifted 
eyebrows  quite  oyer  her  head.  What  a  thing  it 
is,  the  consciousness  of  a  rather  washed-out  frock  I 
For  the  first  time  in  her  life  that  consciousness 
came  to  Frank,  although  tho  wash -a-oui  frocks 
were  by  no  means  new  to  her.  Aui  tbuMigh  it 
all,  she  was  led  forward  until  sht  stood  before  the 
easy-chair  in  the  next  room. 

Then  somehow  her  hands  were  inLer  mother's, 
and  she  was  being  drawn  down  until  the  two 
faces  leaned  together  f^nd  there  came  tho  touch 
of  lips  upon  her  brow 

Only  a  light,  swil  touch.  Frank  had  shrunk 
away  a  little,  unconsciously  ;  and  the  eyes  fixed 
Bcarchingly  on  hers,  darkened  with  pain.  The 
mother  felt  her  shrink,  and  let  her  go. 

The  years  of  separation  had  opened  a  gulf  be- 
tween the  two.  To  the  mother,  it  had  seemed 
that  at  a  glanc(\  a  touch,  it  must  close,  and  give 
her  little  one,  her  youngest,  back  to  her.  She 
had  not  counted  on  the  shortcomings  of  a  child's 
memorv :  its  forgetfulness  of  many  things ;  its 
*^6 


82 


A    LITTLE   MAID  OF  ACADIK. 


m 


readiness  to  take  impressions  from  tliose  near  at 
hand.  The  grandmother  and  Marguite  had  con- 
fused the  image  of  her  mother  in  Fran9oise's  mind, 
until  there  remained  but  the  bhirred  travesty  of 
her. 

The  mother  dimly  felt  this,  without  under- 
standing it ;  and  lot  her  go,  forcing  a  smile. 

**You  sec,  we  have  come  rather  earlier  than 
we  expected.  We  took  advantage  of  the  first  ex- 
cursion-boat up  the  river  to  the  foot  of  the  falls. 
We  were  fortunate  in  finding  conveyances  of  one 
kind  or  another  in  the  village,  to  bring  us  all  f^ut 
without  delay." 

Frank  said  nothing,  in  the  pause.  She  was 
standing  up  now  before  her  mother,  looking  at 
her  with  a  sort  of  enforced  criticism. 

Garden  roses  arc  too  rare  in  all  this  Madawaska 
region,  to  offer  themselves  to  the  little  acadiennc 
in  the  way  of  comparison  ;  but  if  she  had  been 
familiar  with  a  certain  cluster  rose  of  our  ac- 
quaintance, the  three  faces  grouped  together  be- 
fore her,  would  not  have  failed  to  suggest  it. 
Marie's  ^  flower-like  face  "  brilliant  and  glowing, 
as  if  it  had  drawn  into  itself  all  the  best  of  the 
air  and  the  sun  ;  the  other  two  paling  out  in  their 
different  degrees,  not  as  if  they  were  faded,  but 
grown  into  more  or  less  faint  reflections  of  the 
other,  putting  up  with  that  second-best  of  air 
and  sunshine. 


I     '  Till 

I 


A  LITTLE  MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


83 


To  the  girl's  eyes,  siiddcTiIy  hot  with  painful 
tears  for  her  father's  loss  which  this  meeting 
pressed  back  on  her,  tlie  mother's  calm  seemed  ji 
serenity  untouched  by  life's  hardnesses.  Fran- 
(;oise  did  not  know  how  hard  her  young  face 
grew.     But  her  mother  did,  with  one  glance  at  it. 

The  two  had  no  need  to  say  anything  more 
to  each  other  just  now  ;  for  Marie  was  exclaim- 


ing 


**  How  could  you  manage  to  have  changed  so 
wilr  in  all  these  long  years,  Frank  ?  You  see,  it 
IS  impossible  to  call  you  anything  but  the  old 
name.  You  are  just  the  same  shy  little  creature  ; 
only,  instead  of  the  light  ripples  all  over  your 
head — "  touching  the  sunny  waves — "  You, must 
let  my  maid  arrange  your  hair  for  dinner,  child  ; 
it  will  be  a  real  pleasure  to  Elisc  to  get  all  this 
into  her  hand,  for  it  is  not  a  half  satisfaction  to 
her  artist-soul,"  she  said,  with  a  laugh,  '^  to  go 
to  work  with  the  braids  and  pulTs  she  has  to  eke 
out  mine  with." 

"Oh  —  but  yours  is  such  a  pretty  shade, 
Marie  !  "  The  first  in  a  little  burst  of  disappoint- 
ment ;  the  other  in  genuine  admiration  of  the 
red-brown  tresses  shining  with  the  same  warm 
color  as  Marie's  eyes. 

Mario  threw  a  not  discontented  glance  over 
her  shoulder  into  the  mirror.  "I  suppose  color 
does  go  a  long  way  nowadays  ;  only  it  does  not 


■MMiHKMBiisgninM 


ma 


84 


A   LITTLE  MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


in 


li:W 


make  one  a  heroine  to  one's  femme  de  chamhre. 
But  come,  mamma,  if  you  don't  order  us  off  to 
our  toilets,  and  bestir  yourself  about  your  own, 
we  shall  never  be  ready  for  dinner,  and  that  is  a 
bad  beginning  of  the  new  life.  Elise  shall  come 
to  you,  Frank,  the  moment  I  can  spare  her.  Let 
her  choose  your  dress  for  you ;  her  taste  is  per- 
fect." 

Fran9oise  took  a  fold  of  her  homespun  be- 
tween her  fingers,  rolling  it  together  in  an  em- 
barrassed way. 

'^  I — I  think — 1  won't  come  down  to  dinner, 
Marie." 

"JSTot  come  down  to  dinner!"  —  the  two 
sisters  :  the  one  echoini?  the  other. 

"I — this  is  just  about  as  good  as  anything  I 
have  to  wear." 

Frank  said  this  with  a  touch  of  self-asserting 
pride,  lifting  her  head. 

*^  Frank!" 

But  the  mother,  with  a  certain  perceptible 
effort,  as  if  she  were  hardly  accustomed  to  inter- 
fere with  Marie's  decisions,  interposed  deprc- 
catingly. 

*'  Miglit  not  all  that  wait,  Marie  ?  Of  course, 
Fran5oise — she  has  been  but  a  child — her  grand- 
mamma would  think.  She  is  half  a  child  ;  she 
will  not  object  to  waiting  until  we  can  send  away 
for  what  she  needs,  to  Fredericton  or  St.  John." 


A  LITTLE  MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


85 


The  girl  turned  with  a  flash  in  her  eyes. 

*'  The  frock  is  good  enough  for  me.  I  am  not 
ashamed  of  it.  I  do  not  want  to  go  down  to  din- 
ner.    I  care  nothing  for  your  town  finery  ! " 

*' Frank  !" 

But  she  was  out  of  the  room  in  a  small  whirl- 
wind. 

Out  of  the  room,  and  safe  up-stairs  in  her  own 
old  one  under  the  eaves. 

But  not  so  safe  as  that,  after  a  while,  a  tap 
should  not  come  to  her  door. 

Franyoise  did  not  say  "^^  Come  in"  ;  no,  not 
when  presently  the  tap  was  repeated.  She  held 
her  breath,  as  she  half  crouched,  half  knelt  in 
her  deep  window.  She  lifted  her  head  a  little, 
couched  on  her  arms  in  a  listening  attitude. 
Would  not  the  footsteps  pass  away  from  her 
threshold,  if  she  gave  no  sign  ? 

But  the  door  was  opening,  and  Marie  came  in, 
with  something  gray  and  histrous  trailing  from 
her  arm.  She  gave  a  start  when  she  saw  the 
small  brown  leap  in  the  window-seat.  She  went 
back  and  shut  the  door,  and  threw  her  light  bur- 
den across  a  chair. 

'*See,  Frank,  I  have  something  to  show  you, 
something  I  would  like  your  opinion  of." 

When  Frank  did  not  stir,  Marie  went  np  to 
her  and  gave  her  a  friendly  shake. 

"  Come,  come,  wake  up  ;  this  will  never  do 


}} 


8G 


A  UTILE   MAiO  Ob   .\CADIE. 


And  then,  stooping  over  her  :  "  What,  tears  ? 
For  the  shabby  gown,  child  ?    Only  look  here  ! " 

It  Avoiild  have  taken  some  determined  resist- 
ance to  withstand  Marie's  gentle  violence.  And 
as  Frank  wa.s  by  no  means  determined  to  resist, 
slie  was  drawn  to  her  feet,  and  forward  to  tiie 
chair,  Marie  still  holding  her  hands. 

*'Tell  me,  Frank,  is  it  pretty  ?  Would  I  look 
pretty  in  it,  with  the  ribbons  just  to  match  your 
eyes  ?  " 

The  child  caught  her  breath.  She  had  never 
seen  anything  so  dainty  in  the  way  of  a  dress,  as 
that  silky  gossamer,  witli  its  fringed  knots  of  vio- 
let, and  the  lace  laid  like  a  faint  frost-breath  here 
and  there,  to  soften  all.  As  Marie  went  forward 
to  shake  out  a  fold,  and  in  so  doing  let  go  her 
hands,  Frank  clasped  them  together  with  a  gest- 
ure of  delight. 

"But  it  is  as  pretty  as  a  flower  !  I  wonder 
there  are  no  flowers  of  silver  gray  like  that.  May 
1 " — suddenly  growing  shyer — "may  I  see  you  in 
it,  when  you  are  dressed  ? — with  the  violet  rib- 
bons and  all  ?  " 

But  when  Marie  had  made  her  understand 
that  Elise  had  deftly  altered  it  for  Frank  herself, 
the  color  flamed  into  her  face,  and  she  did  not 
put  out  a  hand,  as  her  sister  pushed  the  chair 
with  its  flowing  draperies  toward  her. 

"  Why,  what  a  willful  puss  it  is  ! "  cried  Marie, 


A  LITTLE  MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


37 


after  a  imnse  of  vain  expectation.  "  Come,  now, 
I  meant  to  leave  you  to  Elise,  but  now  I  shall 
see  you  don  this  thing  myself,  for  I  perceive  you 
are  not  to  be  trusted." 

Frank  stood  like  a  rebellious  child,  one  shoul- 
der raised  pettishly,  surrendering  herself  as  if 
a'riid  altogether  to  revolt  against  her  tall  sister 
who  had  taken  her  in  hand.  >S!\e  was  fingering  the 
gold  chain  about  }icr  throat,  glad  that  it  was  long 
enough  to  hide  its  odd  pendant  of  a  silver  coin 
in  her  bosom,  and  thus  save  her  from  a  possible 
question,  as  Marie  took  her  by  the  shoulders,  and 
turned  her  round,  and  made  a  dash  at  the  fasten- 
ings of  the  despised  frock,  whicli  she  let  fall  to 
the  floor,  as  she  might  have  undressed  a  child. 

*'  Did  they  mean  to  keep  you  an  infant  al- 
ways ? — a  frock  like  this  !  How  old  are  you, 
Frank  ?  Only  seventeen  ?  Well,  well,  you  need 
not  look  so  penitent  ;  you  will  amend  of  that. 
Only  seventeen,  eh  ?  I  suppose,  then,  we  miglit 
keep  Cinderella  awhile  longer  in  the  nursery 
chimney-corner — " 

Marie  put  her  head  on  one  side,  with  an  air  of 
deliberation,  as  she  watched  the  girl.  But  seeing 
relief  instead  of  dismay  in  the  small  face,  she 
laughed  outright,  and  rested  her  two  jeweled 
hands  on  the  girl's  pretty,  plump,  bare  shoulders. 

*'  No  no,  you  arc  not  to  get  off  in  that  fash- 
ion !    All  these  people  who  have  arrived  with  us. 


88 


A  LITTLE  MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


you  must  meet  them  at  dinner,  whatever  mam- 
ma said  :  else  it  will  have  a  queer  look,  as  if  we 
were  hustling  j^ou  into  the  background.  And 
you  know,  my  dear,  people  might  then  recall  the 
fact  that  I  am  only  a  step-sister,  and  plain  Mary 
Smith.  Fancy  !  when  I  have  chosen  to  be  Marie 
de  Landremont  ever  since  I  went  home  to  you 
from  school,  and  found  your  papa  was  not  at  all 
the  typical  step-father." 

rran9oise  winced.  "  Do  not  let  us  speak  of 
that,  Marie.  I  never  speak  of  it.  I  like  to  think 
you  are  my  own  whole  sister,  just  the  same  as  Ar- 
s(^nc,  or  Anne,  or  Melerente." 

"  You  never  speak  of  it  ?  not  even  to  your 
great  friend  Dr.  Kendal  ?  " 

Frank  could  not  have  said  that  Marie  empha- 
sized those  words,  though  certainly  the  pressure 
of  the  jeweled  hands  upon  her  shoulders  seemed 
to  lay  stress  on  them.  She  could  feel  the  sharp 
setting  of  the  rings. 

She  opened  her  eyes  wnde. 

"  No— oh,  no.     Why  should  I  ?  " 

"  Good  child  ! "  said  Marie  carelessly,  letting 
her  hands  fall.     "  Why  should  you,  indeed  ?" 

She  stood  looking  at  her  little  sister,  but  in 
reality  not  seeing  her.  Frank  would  have  been 
startled  enough,  could  she  have  followed  Marie's 
thoughts.  They  had  gone  back  a  long  way  ;  far- 
ther than  Frank,  farthe/  even  than  Marie  could 


A  LITTLE  MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


S9 


remember.  In  this  old  house,  which  Marie  saw 
now  for  the  first  time,  her  mother's  romance  had 
begun.  Anne  Thibodeau  was  as  young  as  this 
little  daughter  of  hers,  when  first  she  came  here 
from  the  States,  on  a  visit  to  her  kindred  on 
the  St.  John.  The  romance,  indeed,  had  begun 
with  Fran9ois,  not  with  Jean.  It  was  broken  off 
on  Anno  Thibodcau's  return  to  St.  Louis,  whore 
the  girl  submitted  to  a  Frenchily-arranged  match, 
tiiat  gave  her  the  name  of  Smith — a  name  heavily 
and  richly  gilded.  It  was  in  her  early  widow- 
hood that  old  Madame  de  Landremont  wrote  and 
renewed  her  invitation,  hoping  to  renew  the  en- 
gagement with  Franjois.  The  young  widow  came 
back  on  another  visit  to  the  St.  John,  and  fell 
in  love  with  the  wrong  brother,  and  the  wrong 
brother  with  her.  It  was  a  passion  that  flung 
everything  else  to  the  winds.  They  were  married 
notwithstanding  the  old  madame's  anger,  and  a 
provision  in  the  late  Mr.  Smith's  will,  by  which, 
in  the  event  of  his  widow's  remarriage,  the  guar- 
dianship of  his  little  daughter  and  his  daughter's 
fortune  passed  into  the  hands  of  his  brother.  It 
was  not  until  Mary  was  rather  older  than  Fran- 
9oise  now,  that  she  came  home  to  her  mother 
from  school.  Ilcr  father's  name  was  no  longer 
gilded  by  the  fortune  her  uncle  had  lost  for  her  ; 
and  it  was  then  that  she  chose  to  bo  IMarie  de 
Landremont,  as  she  told  Franyoiso,  finding  her 


90 


A   LITTLE   MAID   OF  AC  A  DIE. 


\i 


step-father  by  no  means  the  typical  one.  She  had 
liad  another  re  tson  for  the  cliange — the  beginning 
of  a  new  life  abroad,  utterly  broken  off  from  the 
old  one.  But  this  was  a  reason  Marie  told  to  no 
one.  Neither  why  she  had  chosen  at  this  time  to 
bring  her  motlier  over  here.  Marie  usually  had 
her  reasons,  for  all  she  chose  sometimes  to  ap- 
pear inconsequent  enough. 

As  she  was  in  her  speech  now,  patting  Frank's 
shoulder  : 

"  After  all,  Frank,  I  am  no  cruel  step-sister, 
any  more  than  Ars^ne.  We  are  well-disposed 
creatures,  on  the  whole,  who  mean  to  be  good  to 
Cinderella — so  long  as  she  does  not  step  in  and 
carry  off  the  prince,"  she  added,  with  a  flashing 
smile  of  satisfaction  at  her  own  image  in  the  glass. 

"  Who  is  the  prince,  Marie  ?" 

The  elder  sister  started,  and  colored  slightly. 

It  was  not  her  wont  to  be  embarrassed ;  but 
there  was  just  a  hint  of  confusion  in  her  laugh. 

''  The  prince,  child  ?  Who  knows — perhaps 
he  has  been  \  aiting  for  me  all  this  while,  up  hero 
in  the  skirts  of  the  forest  ?  There,  now,  Cinder- 
ella is  dressed  for  the  ball,  and  she  may  come  and 
look  at  herself  in  the  mirror." 

A  worm-eaten  oval,  with  plenty  of  blurred 
rings  over  its  once  bright  surface,  it  yet  gave 
Frank  a  full-length  vision  which,  advancing  to- 
ward her,  fairly  bewildered  her. 


h  ill 


A  LITTLE   MAID  OF  AC  A  DIE. 


91 


She  put  her  hands  across  her  eyes ;  then  looked 
again,  as  if  this  time  slie  expected  some  different 
reflection. 

There  it  was  still ;  all  silvery  and  white  and 
golden,  as  Marie  lightly  pulled  tlie  pin  out  of  the 
loosely-knotted  hair,  and  let  down  the  whole  in  a 
bright  flood.  There  needed  no  other  sunshine  to 
light  up  the  whole  picture. 

*' So  you,  too,  think  it  charming,  Frank?" 
Marie  was  laughing,  nodding  at  the  mirror. 
'*  Such  nonsense,  that  '  beauty  unadorned,'  isn't 
it  ?  Of  course  it  will  not  do  to  pose  outright  for 
Little  Goldilocks" —  touching  the  bright  waves 
with  soft,  admiring  hand — "but  Elise  will  see  at 
once  how  to  do  it  in  some  graceful,  girlish  way  ; 
you  know  it  is  well  not  to  go  over  seventeen.  It 
won't  do  for  you  to  be  ^out'  yet;  you  are  too 
young  to  go  out." 

Frank  turned  round  with  startled  eyes. 

"Not  go  out — too  young  to  go  out!"  she 
cried,  breaking  into  French  in  her  dismay.  "  Moi, 
who  go  out  every  day  and  all  day  long  !  I  don't 
see  what  you  are  laughing  at ! "  she  cried,  begin- 
ning with  trembling  hands  to  unfasten  the  won- 
derful robe  which  had  turned  into  fetters  all  at 
once.  "  But  if  you  think  I  am  going  to  be  kept 
indoors  because  of  your  fine  clothes  !  I  would 
like  to  know — " 

Marie  good-naturedly  gathered  up  over  her  arm 


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A   LITTLE   MAID   OF  ACADIE. 


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the  dress  Frank  spurned  aside  with  her  foot.  She 
gave  a  reassuring  pat  to  the  child's  dimpled  shoul- 
der ;  which,  however,  was  brusquely  shrugged 
out  of  reach. 

"  You  must  let  me  laugh  a  little,  when  you 
say  'saouaire'  for  ^savoir,'  my  little  F'enchwom- 
an.  What  a  small  termagant  it  is  I  Don't  do 
that  before  Ars6ne  or  mamma,  my  dear ;  you 
would  frighten  them.  Don't  you  know  it  is  an 
impossibility  to  stamp  one's  foot,  or  to — kick — 
anything  out  of  one's  way,  even  though  it  chance 
to  be  a  toilet  from  Paris  ?  Now  I  wonder  if 
you  are  not  the  only  girl  of  seventeen  in  the  whole 
civilized  world  ignorant  of  the  great  meaning  of 
that  word  *out'?" 

Marie  went  on  to  explain  it.  "Now  that 
Anne  is  married  to  her  German  baron,"  she  add- 
ed, "and  keeps  Melcrente  with  her — twins  are 
so  absurdly  inseparable  ! — it  is  your  turn.  But 
first  you  should  have  some  lessons,  wherever  mam- 
ma settles  next  winter.  Oh,  yes,  of  course  no- 
body could  winter  here.  It  was  just  a  whim  of 
mine,  our  coming  now,  instead  of  sending  for  you. 
Your  letters  put  it  into  my  head  ;  and  as  mamma 
was  glad  to  come —  But  about  you,"  she  re- 
sumed, as  if  mamma's  wishes  were  hardly  worth 
dwelling  on — "  no  doubt  you  have  had  a  govern- 
ess, or  master — " 

She  made  a  pause  at  the  last  word,  with  a 


■M 


A  LITTLE  MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


93 


sharp,  furtive  glance  at  Frank,  while  apparently 
absorbed  in  smoothing  out  a  knot  of  ribbon  on 
the  dress. 

"  No,  I  never  had  a  governess.  But  I  have 
liad  lessons  ;  you  know  I  wrote  you  monsieur  Ic 
docteur — " 

**0h,  of  course!"  Marie  affected  a  slight 
yawn.  *' The  village  apothecary  ;  I  suppose  chem- 
istry was  part  of  the  course  ?  Did  you  find  the 
lessons  interesting  ?" 

"Until  the  snow  went,  and  the  sunny  days 
and  flowers  came.  I  like  those  much  better  than 
the  books,"  Fran^oise  confessed.  And  then,  with 
compunction:  "  but  that  is  not  good  to  say,  after 
all  monsieur  le  docteur's  trouble." 

**  This  kind  old  doctor — he  is  not  young  ?" 

*'  Oh,  no,"  the  girl  said  promptly  ;  *'  I  should 
lliink  he  must  be  as  old  as — oh,  suppose,  as  old  a3 
Uncle  Frank  was,  that  once  when  he  came  to  see 
us  in  Liverpool.  I've  thought  he  was  like  Uncle 
Frank." 

**Like— " 

Marie  repeated  the  word  sharply.  "Franr 
(^ois  de  Landremont  was  fair,  like  you." 

"  But  it  was  not  in  face,  that  I  meant ;  it  was 
in  kindness,  in  goodness  to  me.  Marie,  if  I  had 
known  nothing,  just  nothing  at  all,  when  you 
came :  if  monsieur  le  docteur  had  not  taught 
me- 


w 


94 


A  litttj:  maid  of  acadie. 


Marie's  face  lost  the  hard  lines  which  for  a 
moment  had  sharpened  every  feature.  She  drew 
a  long,  deep  breath.  It  might  have  been  a  sigh 
of  relief,  but  she  turned  it  into  another  half-sup- 
pressed yawn,  as  if  deprecating  school-girl  con- 
fidences. 

"  Time  enough,  child,  to  learn  all  our  several 
attainments  ;  just  now  we  must  have  more  regard 
to  the  adornment  of  the  person  than  the  mind. 
I  am  off,  and  will  send  Elise  to  you  as  soon  as  I 
can  spare  her." 

When  Elise  had  completed  her  transformation- 
scene  with  rran(;oise,  she  had  a  message  to  deliver, 
that  mademoiselle  was  to  stop  in  her  mother's 
room  on  her  way  down-stairs.  Fran^oise  started 
obediently  enough.  But  when  she  had  reached  a 
certain  angle  in  the  passage,  and  heard  unfamiliar 
voices  beyond  it,  the  little  heart  which  was  flutter- 
ing like  a  bird's  under  all  this  borrowed  plumage, 
failed  her  utterly.  She  turned  and  fled  down  a 
side  stairway — "  out,"  out  at  last. 

The  kmdly  twilight  blurred  with  its  own  gray 
chadows  the  small  gray  figure  flitting  along,  until 
the  gnarled  apple-tree  outside  the  gate  bent  its 
bough  obligingly,  offering  her  a  nest  secure  from 
observation.  She  took  it  unhesitatingly,  in  her 
ignorance  of  Parisian  toilets ;  and  sat  lightly 
swaying  to  and  fro,  with  no  more  thought  for 
silk  than  for  homespun. 


A   LITTLE   MAID   OF  ACADIIJ. 


95 


She  had  enough  to  occupy  her  otherwise.  Her 
lumd  had  stolen  up  to  her  throat,  twisting  and 
untwisting  the  gold  chain  to  which  she  had  linked 
tho  coin  so  lightly  flung  to  her  by  Dallas  Eraser. 

But  she  was  not  thinking  of  Dallas  Frascr 
now ;  only  of  her  mother,  of  that  averted  glance 
in  her  mother's  eyes,  as  she  looked  at  her. 

After  all  these  years  !  That  was  the  way  her 
mother  met  her,  after  all  these  years  ! 

The  poor,  passionate  child  was  covering  up 
her  hot  face,  even  from  the  calming  touch  of  the 
cool  evening  air.  She  was  not  crying,  she  was 
not  even  thinking  ;  she  was  only  aching  with  a 
wild  longing  to  escape,  from  herself,  from  the 
contending  feelings  that  were  fairly  tearing  her 
heart  to  pieces  between  them. 

She  buried  her  head  deeper  in  her  arms.  Per- 
haps it  was  that  slight  silken  stir  of  hers  :  she 
missed  a  step  that  quickened  to  her  across  the 
road. 

''Frank—" 

"  0  monsieur  le  docteur  !  And  I  wanted  you 
so  much  ! " 

''Frank,  were  you  then  thinking  of  me  ?'* 

"Eh,  not  at  the  moment,"  she  admitted  re- 
luctantly, lest  he  should  go  on  to  ask  what  she 
was  thinking  of.  "Not  at  the  moment.  But 
then  I  am  always  wanting  you,  you  see,  whenever 
I  am  lonely.     And  a  big  houseful  makes  one 


96 


A  LITTLE   MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


ffjf; 


loneliest  of  all,  don't  you  think  so  ?  You  have 
been  in  the  villaf^c — you  have  heard  of  the  arrival  ? 
But  how  did  you  over  know  rac,  monsieur,  in  this 
disguise  ?    Only  see  here  ! " 

She  was  standing  before  him  now,  and  she 
gave  the  folds  of  her  dress  a  toss  out  over  the 
road-side  weeds. 

*'  Would  you  have  known  your  Cinderella,  if 
you  had  had  a  good  look  at  her  so,  instead  of 
stumbling  over  her  huddled  all  together  as  she 
migiit  have  been  among  the  ashes  in  the  chimney- 
corner  ?  " 

lie  did  not  answer.  lie  was  looking  at  her  in 
a  silence  at  which  the  girl  said,  disappointedly  : 

*'  I  thoufdit  YOU  would  like  it.  It  seemed  to 
mo  I  looked  a  little  pretty  in  it.  Not  as  Mario 
would  have  looked,  of  course,  but  still — " 

Suddenly  Kendal  had  both  her  hands  fast  in 
his. 

"/s  it  my  Cinderella  ?  my  Cinderella,  whether 
she  wear  cotton  or  silk!'*  And  then,  as  the 
startled  pose  of  her  head  warned  him  of  his  vehe- 
mence, **This  is  silk?'-  he  said,  in  a  lighter 
tone.  "And  you  are  enjoying  it,  and  all  the 
other  pretty  things  of  your  new  life  ?  But  why 
are  you  out  here  alone,  a  little,  solitary  figure 
that  drew  me  across  to  you  as  I  was  passing  ?" 

"Passing?" 

No  one  knew  better  than  she,  that  this  road 


A  LITTLE   MAID   OF  ACADIE. 


97 


led  nowhere  else  ;  and  she  told  him  so.  "  Where 
could  you  be  passing  to,  monsieur  ?  You  can't 
pass  to  anywhere  by  our  road." 

"Well,  then — "laughing,  and  speaking  out, 
as  if  driven  into  a  corner — '*I  suppose  *  passing,' 
freely  translated,  means  coming  this  way  in  the 
hope  of  seeing  you." 

**Then  I  am  glad  I  came  out.  I  wish  you 
were  coming  in.     I  wish — " 

She  broke  off  with  a  confusing  flash  of  mem- 
ory, anent  Marie's  mention  of  the  village  apothe- 
cary. 

"  Do  you  wish  it,  Frank  ?  Would  it  make  a 
difference  in  your  enjoyment  of  your  new 
life  ?  " 

Ue  had  palod  a  little,  waiting  for  the  answer. 
But  he  need  not  havj  feared  it. 

'*0h,  so  much  difference!"  said  thj  clear, 
prompt  voice.  "  I  am  frightened  of  the  new  life. 
I  wish  we  were  back  in  the  fire-lit  kitchen  to-night, 
with  tante  Marguite  asleep  in  the  chimney-corner, 
and  the  sound  of  bonhomme  Pacifique's  axe 
outside  ringing  through  the  stillness,  and  coming 
iu  to  you  and  me  sitting  at  the  dresser,  over  our 
books." 

She  was  swaying  again  on  her  apple-bough 

seat.     The  faint  new  moon,   still  pallid  in  the 

twilight,  flung  the  leaves  in  dancing  shadows  on 

the  bright  head  and  lightly  folded  hands.    Some- 

1  -., 


n 


A   LITTLE  MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


m 


I 


mi^i  j 


thing  in  the  demure  attitude  helped  lier  words  to 
carry  Kendal  back  to  a  certain  Avinter  evening  in 
the  old  kitchen,  when  the  dancing  firelight  had 
flickered  on  the  sunny  hair,  and  face  half-blush- 
ing and  half-mischievous. 

"  The  books — the  lessons — Frank,  I  tried  once, 
and  but  once,  to  teach  you  one  which  afterward 
I  thought  I  had  no  right  to  do.  I  have  kept 
silence  since  then.  But  now  everything  is 
changed — I  have  had  news — it  is  no  longer  a 
hard,  bare  life  that  I  would  offer  you.  But  what 
am  I  saying  ? — it  is  not  for  silver  and  gold  that 
my  little  girl  will  come  to  me,  if  come  she  does. 
Only,  I  have  the  right  to  try  to  win  her  now,  if 
it  is  not  too  late.  Is  it  too  late,  Frank  ?  Can 
we  net  go  back  to  that  night  by  tlie  fire,  when 
old  Marguite  pulled  out  her  spinning-wheel 
between  us,  and  you  said — Frank,  you  said  the 
lesson  was  easy,  and  you  did  not  mean  to  forget 
it.     Have  you  forgotten  ?    I  iove — " 

**  '  Thou  lovest — '  "  she  put  in  promptly,  with 
a  mocking  yet  unsteady  laugh,  willfully  misunder- 
standing him.  "Eh,  monsieur  mon  maitre,  you 
arc  too  much  given  to  review-lessons ;  I  learned 
my  verbs  long,  long  ago  ! " 

He  made  no  answer,  even  by  a  movement ; 
and  his  face  could  not  speak  for  him,  for  it  was 
in  shadow,  as  he  leaned  against  the  fence,  under 
the  boughs. 


A  LITTLE   MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


99 


The  silence  frightened  her.  She  put  out  her 
hand,  with  a  shy  touch  upon  his  arm. 

**  As  if  I  could  not  remember,  without  that !" 
she  said,  under  her  breath. 

**If  I  go  away  for  a  little  while,  Frank — " 

The  light  touch  tightened  into  a  clinging 
clasp,  and  her  other  hand  stole  up,  and  the  small 
fingers  locked  themselves  over  his  arm. 


"Going  away 


p" 


There  was  dismay  enough  in  the  tone,  to  sat- 
isfy any  lover,  however  exacting.  For  the  first 
time  Kendal  looked  without  a  misgiving  into  the 
young  face  raised  toward  him  ;  into  the  eyes 
glinting  with  a  sudden  rush  of  tears,  and  down 
upon  the  quivering  mouth — would  a  kiss  comfort 
it,  as  it  would  a  child's  ? 

But  he  onlv  answered  : 

"Going  away,  but  to  come  nearer,  Frank. 
Just  a  little  while  ;  and  then  will  you  give  me 
such  a  welcome  to  your  parlor  as  you  used  to 
the  old  kitchen  ?  " 

"  That  I  will — always  ! "  There  was  a  ring 
of  defiance  in  her  tone.  Marie  might  say  what 
slie  would  :  Frank  would  never  give  up  her  friend 
— this  one  friend  that  she  had — were  he  a  thou- 
sand times  village  apothecary,  "That  I  will — 
always  I "  she  said. 

"  And  you  take  me  on  faith  ;  when  you  know 
so  little  of  me,  really  ?  " 


"W 


100 


A   LITTLE   MAID   OF  ACADIE. 


She  shrugged  her  shoulders  carelessly. 

**  Why  should  I  know  anything  of  you,  when 
I  know  you  ?  " 

"  But  you  have  the  right,  Frank  ;  and  perhaps 
I  have  heen  wrong  not  to  have  told  you  every- 
thing.    But  it  is  a  i)ainful  story — " 

"Then  do  not  tell  me,"  she  said  (piickly,  with 
a  shrinking  movement,  as  if  from  the  pain  he 
spoke  of. 

"  Oh,  not  to  you,  there  is  no  i)ain  in  it  for 
you.  It  is  only  a  bitter  memory  ;  a  ghost  that 
will  be  laid  forever,  when  I  have  told  it  you.  But 
let  it  rest  until  I  come  back,  if  you  will.  You 
have  not  asked  me  where  I  am  going,  Frank," 
ho  said,  with  a  movement  of  his  hand  dismissing 
the  subject,  and  tiie  ghost  with  it.  "And  yet  1 
am  going  a  long  way." 

"A  long  way  ?" 

"  Even  into  the  States." 

"  Into  the  States  !    But  why  ?  " 

"To  seek  my  fortune,"  he  said,  lightly. 
"  What !  you  never  have  guessed  tliat  I  am  what 
you  people  here  call  an  Ameritchain  ?  But  it  is 
no  wonder  you  did  not  know  it :  I  myself  have 
tried  so  hard  to  forget  it." 

"But  you  have  been  a  Canadian — almost  an 
Acadian — this  long  time,"  she  said,  eagerly. 

*-  Yes,  ever  since  I  fled  across  the  border  out 
of  prison." 


4fr;. 


A  LITTLE   MAID  OV  ACADIK. 


101 


There  was  a  laugliin;]^,  tone  in  liis  voice  ;  but, 
for  all  the  twilight,  he  was  watching  her  to  see  the 
cfTcct  of  his  words. 

Thjy  had  absolutely  noue,  beyond  an  impa- 
tient movement  of  her  shoulder.  She  found  idle 
jesting  out  of  place  while  he  was  speaking  of  go- 
ing away. 

"  You  will  not  be  long,  monsieur  ?  I — they 
are  all  so  different  from  me — I  shall  feel  so  alono 
until  you  come  back." 

There  could  have  been  no  more  marked  differ- 
ence, one  would  have  said,  than  between  this 
dark,  grave  man  older  than  his  years,  and  the 
little,  young  creature  looking  wistfully  up  at  him. 
But  just  now  he  saw  the  difference  as  little  as  she.    ■€ 

*'  Long  ? — the  hours  will  be  davs,  and  the  davs 
weeks.  But  as  time  is  counted,  it  will  not  be 
long  before  I  come  back  to  claim  my  little  wife."    ft 

He  saw  her  start  at  that  last  word. 

*' What  does  it  mean,  then  ?  Frank,  arc  you 
not  to  be  mv  wife  ?"  ' 

"One  day  ;  oh,  yes.    But  it  is  much  too  soon 
to   think  of  that.      People   may  be — engaged —     ^ 
a  long  while  first.     I —    Need  we  think  of  that 
now.  Dr.  Kendal?" 

He  hastened  to  reassure  her,  half-smiling  him- 
self,  although  the  glow  had  passed  from  his  face. 

**  Not  until  you  choose  ;  you  shall  not  think 
of  anything  until  you  choose,"  he  told  her,  sooth- 


■—-  » 


102 


A   LITTLE  MAID  OF  ACUDIE. 


ingly.  **  But,  Frank,  there  arc  oue  or  two  things 
which  people — engaged — do  sometimes,  but  you 
have  not  done." 

*' I  am  sure  I  did  not  know.  There  are  so 
many  things  I  don't  know,"  she  said,  na'ivcly. 
*•  I  wish  you  would  just  tell  me  when  I  am  wrong, 
monsieur  le  doetcur." 

**  There,  then."  lie  shook  his  head  gravely. 
*'My  name  is  John,"  he  said. 

*'0h,  but  I  couldn't  !"  she  cried,  rather  ir- 
rclovantlv. 

*'And  then,  Frank,  at  parting,  people  who 
arc — engaged — do  sometimes — " 

lie  might  have  told  her  without  words,  as  he 
bent  his  head.  But  she  drew  her  breath  in  such 
a  hurried,  frightened  way,  that  he  stopped. 

**  You  do  not  love  me  then,  Frank,  at  all  ?" 

Of  course  she  loved  him.  And  he  was  going 
away. 

An  instant's  pause,  a  little  struggle  with  her- 
self, and  she  put  up  her  mouth  to  be  kissed,  as 
frankly  as  a  child  might  do. 

Did  he  not  understand  her  ?  For,  after  all,  ho 
only  took  her  hands  in  a  firm  grasp  a  moment, 
and  then  went  away. 

He  did  not  even  look  back  as  he  went ; 
though  she  sat  there  with  her  hand  raised  to  wave 
him  a  last  farewell,  when  he  should  reach  the 
wooded  corner  where  the  lane  met  the  hiojh-road. 


A  LITTLE  MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


103 


Five  minutes  later  she  wiis  up-stairs,  and  slip- 
ping again  into  her  despised  homespun  frock. 

For,  after  all,  she  belonged  to  the  old  days,  not 
the  new ;  to  tlie  village  doctor,  to  homespun,  to 
the  kitchen  chimney-iorner,  and  tantc  Marguito. 

As  she  stole  down-stairs  and  out-of-doors  once 
more,  she  could  hear  dinner  being  served  in  merry 
picnic  fashion,  in  the  big  weaving;  »om,  which 
had  been  turned  into  a  dining-hall. 


>> 


**Tante  Marguite- 

'•Eh!''  The  old  woman  look 'd  round  with 
a  start,  tilting  the  saucei)an  as  she  set  it  down 
on  the  glowing  coals  on  her  own  licartii.  *•  Mam- 
sellc,  it's  never  you  !  At  this  hour  of  the  even- 
ing !    What  are  you  doing  hero  ?  " 

"I  have  made  my  escape."  The  girl  came  in 
across  the  threshold,  with  a  nod,  and  took  posses- 
sion of  the  arm-chair  in  the  w^indow.  "  They 
put  me  in  their  fetters,  but  I  broke  loose  from 
them." 

'*  Fetters,  mamselle  Franguaise  ! " 

Marguite  looked  capable  of  believing  anything 
of  Madame  Jean. 

*'  Fetters,  tante  Marguite  ;  or  perhaps  I  should 
say,  prison-dress.  It  was  very  pretty,  all  rustle 
and  ribbons  ;  but  it  cramped  me.  So  I  have 
stolen  away  from  it,  while  all  those  strangers  are 
up  at  the  house  ;  and  you  must  take  mo  in." 


^ 


I — P"^™^ 


104 


A   LITTLE   MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


*'  But,  mamsellc,  Madame  Jean — " 

"  Grandmamma  said  I  might,  you  know  very 
well,  Marguite.  You  must  go  up  to  the  house, 
and  tell  Madame  Jean,"  the  girl  said,  with  a 
little  willful  nod.  "Or  there  is  Pacifique — he 
can  go." 

Pacifi(iue  was  coming  in  with  an  armful  of 
wood.  lie  gave  a  sort  of  subdued  purr  of  satis- 
faction when  he  saw  the  young  mistress:  in  her 
homely  frock. 

*'  So  they  haven't  made  a  fine  lady  of  you  all 
at  once,  mamsellc  ?  That's  well ;  but  why  have 
you  sent  monsieur  le  docteur  away  ?  I  met  him 
on  the  road,  and  when  1  told  him  it  would  please 
my  old  woman  well  to  see  him  at  this  time,  that 
she  had  Tnp:,h  to  try  her  nerves,  he  said  he  was 
leaving  the  village,  and  we  must  send  for  the 
doctor  down  Tobique-way.  Faites  excuse,  mon- 
sieur le  docteur  ! " — Pacifique  shook  his  solemn 
head,  taking  both  hands  to  straighten  out  his  stiff 
rheumatic  leg,  as  he  deposited  the  wood  on  the 
hearth — "but  the  short-cut  into  the  next  world, 
over  the  twelve  hundred  and  fifty  leagues  under- 
ground, into  the  kingdom  of  the  demon,  that  a 
poor  sinner  would  be  sure  to  find,  that  goes  to 
him  down  Tobique-way." 

Frank  laughed  ;  and  then  grew  grave  as  sud- 
denly. 

"  Gone  away  ! — "  she  said,  under  her  breath. 


A   LITTLE   51AID  OF  ACADIE. 


105 


There  was  an  odd  sound  of  respite  in  the  words. 
And  then  she  colored  hotly  :  because  she  was  a 
just  a  little  shy  of  being  engaged,  need  that  make 
her  ungrateful  ? 

After  all,  Mnrguite  was  not  able  to  resist  the 
opportunity  of  standing  face  to  face  Avith  her  old 
enemy,  Madame  Jean,  with  the  advantage  on  her 
(Marguitc's)  side. 

It  was  an  advantage,  certainly,  th.at  mamsello 
had  come  over  to  Marguitc's  faction. 

Tiie  sense  of  this  accounted  for  the  ready  wel- 
come accorded  by  the  old  woman,  and  the  alacrity 
with  which  she  bound  on  her  best  high  white  cap, 
and  marched  up  to  the  house,  prepared  to  do  bat- 
tle, in  mamselle's  cause,  with  Madame  Jean. 

But  no  battle  ensued.  It  was  not  Madame 
Jean  whom  Marguitc  saw  ;  but  a  bright-eyed, 
bland,  quick-witted  young  lady,  with  a  laugh  in 
her  glance  that  took  the  quaint  old  body  in  from 
head  to  foot  ;  and  a  ready  acquiescence  in  the 
proposal  which  was  meant  for  a  declaration  of 
v/ar — that  mamselle  Francoise  should  remain  for 
the  present  at  the  cottage.  A  very  sensible  thing, 
mamselle  Marie  declared,  with  n  smiling  nod  ;  a 
very  sensible  thing,  until  Elise — a  perfect  treasure 
in  an  emergency  was  Elise — should  have  a  proper 
wardrobe  comfortably  in  readiness  for  Fran5oisc. 

"And — I  threw  my  cap  over  the  mills,"  Mar- 
guite  said,  on  recounting  the  story  afterward, 


■"/ 


.  \ 


106 


A  LITTLE  MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


winding  it  up  after  the  manner  of  the  nurser}^- 
tales.  She  could  never  be  got  to  say  how  the  in- 
terview ended.  Perhaps  on  her  side  it  was  as  well 
that  mamselle  Marie  was  not  clear  as  to  the  Mad- 
awaska  patois  ;  and  had  a  very  indistinct  idea  as 
to  what  ''le  jeoblo  "  in  the  old  woman's  muttered 
farewell  had  to  do  with  "le  diable." 


VIII. 


It 


"  The  dome  Dean 
It  rins  its  lane, 
And  every  seven  year  it  gets  anc." 


Frank  stands  still,  leaning  both  her  arms 
against  the  railing  of  the  suspension-bridge,  and 
gazing  with  suspended  breath  down  on  the  falls 
spanning  the  whole  river  above. 

Just  those  three  deluging  days  of  steady  down- 
pour preceding  this  one  of  brilliant  sunshine,  have 
done  this  ;  covering  the  hurly-burly  of  stones 
strewing  the  river-bed,  and  sending  a  brimming 
flood  from  brink  to  brink.  Down  into  the  chasm 
it  thunders ;  and  there,  under  cover  of  the  rolling 
clouds  of  spray,  it  gathers,  and  whirls  away  be- 


A  LITTLE  MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


107 


neath  the  bridge,  and  through  the  winding  fast- 
nesses of  the  gorge  beyond. 

The  bridge  is  shaking  with  the  clamor  of  it ; 
and  the  girl,  as  she  watches,  is  in  a  quiver  of  ex- 
citement. 

For  the  sudden  rise  in  all  the  forest-streams 
has  offered  another  opportunity  this  season  for 
the  lumber  men  above  to  float  the  logs  down  into 
the  St.  John.  The  river  is  almost  at  half-freshet ; 
and  near  the  bridge,  where  the  rock-walls  draw 
together,  a  pine-trunk,  sucked  under  by  the 
cataract,  is  spewed  out  of  that  foaming  mouth, 
and  goes  spinning  down  the  whirlpool,  the  great 
mill  that  grinds  away  the  bark,  and  leaves  it 
stripped  and  bare  to  float  on  to  some  boom,  it 
may  be  a  hundred  miles  below. 

There  is  a  boom  anchored  in  the  river  above 
the  falls  —  trunk  after  trunk  chained  end  to 
end  in  a  long,  wavering  line,  within  which  the 
others  settle  themselves  into  intricate  mosaics. 
Frank  stands  watching  the  busy  scene  :  the  hur- 
rying logs  ;  the  smooth  sheen  of  the  treacherous 
current  drawing  them  toward  the  brink  ;  the 
swift  canoe,  manned  by  two  lumber  men,  rushing 
to  the  rescue,  and  here  and  there  dragging  into 
the  boom  some  errant  log  which  they  tow  by 
means  of  a  dog  and  chain  made  fast  to  the  canoe. 
How  deft  they  are  !    How — 

The  dead  trunk  of  what  must  once  have  been 


?^*r» 


("v 


,1 


m 


108 


A  LITTLE  MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


a  monarch  of  the  woods,  thrusts  the  other  logs 
aside,  and  sweeps  on  past  the  boom — on  and  on, 
straight  for  the  fulls,  faster  and  faster  as  it  goes. 

The  canoe  has  shot  out  in  pursuit :  the  "  dog  " 
has  gripped  the  log  ;  but  the  current  has  it  too, 
and  the  current  at  that  point  is  deadly  strong. 

One  breathless  moment.  Afterward,  Frank 
might  know  how  her  clinging  to  the  rail  became 
a  passionate  grasp,  in  her  suspense,  until  the  ten- 
der palms  were  bruised.  But  just  now  she  is  un- 
conscious of  herself — conscious  of  nothing  but 
that  terrible  struggle  before  her. 

Man's  power  against  Nature's. 

A  struggle  for  life  and  death  it  is,  after  the 
first. 

For  life  and  death  it  is,  that  the  men  in  the 
canoe  dip  their  paddles,  striving  for  every  inch  of 
treacherous   water  that  misrht  bear  them  back 


agam. 


One  breathing-space,  and  fate  appears  to  pause. 


Canoe    and 


log  are 


motionless.      The    migh^v 


strength  of  arm  put  forth  by  the  powerful  lum- 
ber men,  if  insuflBcient  to  draw  them  backward 
out  of  harm's  reach,  still  holds  them  from  their 
doom. 

And  now — slowly,  slowly  at  first — the  current, 
unseen  like  the  resistless  forces  of  Nature,  has 
them  in  its  grip,  and  draws  and  draws  them 
on. 


A  LITTLE  MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


109 


Frank's  blue  C3'cs,  wide  with  horror,  fasten  on 
the  man  who  stands  up  in  the  canoe  to  strike  one 
last  blow  for  life  :  to  break  the  chain  which  binds 
them  to  the  log  swimming  lightly  away  with  them 
to  the  brink  of  death. 

Slie  sees  him  grasp  hi,  axe,  and,  with  all  his 
force,  strike  at  the  chain. 

But  the  iron  glances  on  the  iron  ;  the  axe 
misses — hurls  itself  out  of  his  unnerved  hands  into 
the  sleek  water. 

The  man — Frank  sees  his  hoary  head  bowed 
down — drops  on  his  knees  in  the  canoe.  His 
comrade,  a  dark  silhouette  against  the  stream  be- 
ginning to  gleam  with  the  first  tranquil  mother- 
of-pearl  shimmer  of  sunset,  never  moves  in  his 
seat,  except  for  the  strong  arms  which  ply  the 
paddle  as  resolutely  as  if,  in  spite  of  every  stroke, 
the  canoe  were  not  bearing  them  on  swiftly  and 
more  swiftly  to  destruction. 

All  Frank's  powers  of  hearing,  of  seeing,  are 
absorbed  in  the  frail  birchen  thing  floating  so 
smoothly  yonder.  If  anything  else  were  floating 
on  that  glassy  mirror,  she  would  not  know  whether 
it  were  stray  log  or  driftwood  tangle. 

Stray  log  or  driftwood  tangle,  or  another  boat 
that  shoots  out  from  the  bank  ? 

Shoots  out ;  speeds  like  an  arrow  far  across 
the  river,  between  the  canoe  and  the  unseen  fate 
reaching  up  after  it  out  of  the  current. 


,-,:*•. 


4f^ 


110 


A  LITTLE   MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


Once  more  the  flash  of  an  axe  glints  like  a 
spark  in  the  red  sunset  drifting  down-stream ; 
and,  this  time,  it  does  not  miss  its  mark. 

The  chain  is  broken  ;  the  log,  with  nothing 
now  to  hold  it  back,  flees  to  the  brink  so  fast  that 
it  is  all  Frank's  eyes  can  do  to  follow  it. 

For  she  forces  her  eyes  to  follow  it ;  the  ten- 
sion of  suspense,  in  watching  those  two  boats,  is 
become  more  than  she  can  bear. 

There  is  a  terror  even  in  this  watching  of  hers  : 
a  heart-sickening  dread,  as  she  sees  the  black  line 
sliding  over  the  brink  which  makes  one  shining 
curve  as  clear  and  smooth  and  mo'  onless  as  a 
great  arch  of  frozen  water.  The  snow-drifts  of 
spray  beat  up  against  it,  snatching  at  that  black 
line,  whatever  it  may  be,  and  burying  it  deep. 
Below,  the  swaths  of  water  fall  apart ;  through 
the  clear  brown  rapids  there  heaves  up  a  black 
something  :  it  may  be  the  jagged  peak  of  a  rock 
below. 

The  seething  waves  have  gulped  it  down.  For 
one  dizzy  instant  Franyoise  catches  her  breath 
again,  doubting  whether  the  shapeless  thing  that 
spins  before  her  eyes  is  log  or  canoe. 

It  is  a  shout  from  the  bank  that  reassures  her 
— a  thin  thread  of  sound,  shrill  through  the  tor- 
rent's roar,  that  makes  itself  just  faintly  heard. 

She  steadies  herself,  clinging  with  both  hands 
to  the  rail,  and  looks  again  for  the  canoes. 


(IWK^ , 


A   LITTLE   MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


Ill 


They  are  not  where  she  left  them.  They  have 
broken  that  thread  of  fate  which  unseen  drew 
I  hem  toward  tJie  abyss.  When  she  sees  them 
again,  they  arc  skimming  side  by  side  back  to'the 
bank,  where  a  group  of  villagers  already  gathers. 

The  voices  can  not  reach  her  through  the 
torrent's  tumult ;  but  she  can  see  the  eager  ges- 
ticulations, and  here  and  there  can  recognize  some 
one  she  knows.  She  never  moves,  clinging  to 
the  rail,  and  looking — looking — 


"It  is  the  etlanger,"  a  voice  said  close  beside 
her,  speaking  in  French. 

The  stranger— the  sent  of  God,  as  the  Breton 
fore  fathers  of  the  Acadians  were  wont  to  say. 

i'rank  started  and  turned. 

But  the  words  were  not  addressed  to  her.  She 
was  hardly  even  ob«":rved  by  the  two,  an  Indian 
and  a  Frenchman,  who  were  passing  over  the 
bridge,  their  tread  deadened  by  the  reverberation 
of  the  falls.  It  was  the  Indian  who  was  speaking 
as  they  went  by. 

The  stranger ;  yes,  she  knew  it  was  Dallas 
Fraser  whom  she  had  seen  flinging  his  life  away 
to  save  the  two  lumber-men. 

After  a  little,  she  roused  herself,  and  turned 
away,  homeward  ;  for  she  could  see  the  scattered 
groups  dispersing,  and  some  of  these  might  be 
coming  across  the  bridge. 


€ 


r 


SH 


*r»-- 


i: 


'k     ' 


112 


A   LITTLE   MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


# 


But,  she  was  trembling  with  excitement  still ; 
and  presently,  wlicn  she  heard  steps  behind  her, 
round  tlie  bend  in  the  road,  she  turned  aside  into 
the  bordering  tliicket,  putting  up  her  hands  to 
her  hot  cheeks,  which  the  branching  greenery 
veiled  completely  from  the  passer-by. 

"When  she  saw  tliat  it  was  Dallas  Fraser  saun- 
tering along,  his  hands  in  the  pockets  of  his 
shooting-jacket,  his  head  thrown  sliglitly  back 
with  a  gesture  of  which  she  already  knew  the 
trick — the  sun  in  his  fair,  frank  face,  and  alto- 
gether a  careless  look  of  happy  ease  about  the 
whole  man — for  an  instant  she  doubted  the  evi- 
dence of  her  own  eyes  :  that  he  had  but  just 
struggled  back  from  the  very  brink  of  death. 

But,  after  all,  why  should  he  not  be  at  ease 
with  himself  and  all  the  world  ?  Had  not  all 
gone  so  well  with  him,  that  Heaven  and  earth 
must  be  glad  of  him  ? 

With  a  swift  impulse,  the  girl  stretched  out 
her  hands  toward  him ;  then  suddenly  let  them 
fall,  her  color  brightening,  her  faint  smile  deep- 
ening mischievously. 

For  he  was  whistling,  as  he  went  by,  beyond 
the  screen  of  underwood  which  she  had  only  put 
forth  her  hand  to  part,  but  had  not  parted  ;  and 
the  air  of  the  song  was  one  which  he  had  learned 
from  her. 

He  was  doing  it  very  badly,  in  a  way  that 


A   LITTLE   MAID   OF  ACADIE. 


113 


spoko  ill  for  his  musical  memory  ;  but  the  air  he 
had  heard  only  the  other  day,  down  by  the  wells  : 

*' '  Tu  t'en  vaa,  tu  dolaisscs  ta  pcrsonnc, 
Lcs  promcsscs  sont  dc3  angros : 
Tu.  in'  avas  proiuid  la  foi  bonne — ' 

What  th3  dickens  are  *  angros,'  by-thc-way?"  he 
said,  breaking  off  as  ho  perceived  that  he  had  lost 
the  tune. 

And  he  passed  on,  round  the  fringe  of  alders. 


**But,  Marguerite,  the  child  ?" 

"  The  child  "  had  crossed  the  bit  of  greensward 
from  the  farm-road,  and  now  stood  on  the  thresh- 
old of  Marguite's  open  door,  looking  within  at 
the  two  who  were  seated  before  the  hearth,  in  the 
full  light  of  the  dancing  fire. 

The  great  iron  kettle  was  humming  cheerily, 
swinging  on  the  crane  ;  a  savory  stew  was  sim- 
mering away  on  a  glowing  bed  of  coals  ;  there  was 
the  smell  of  bread  baking  in  the  brick  oven  which 
was  hollowed  out  in  the  side  of  the  chimnev,  and 
had  been  heated  red-hot  with  a  fire  kindled  in  it, 
now  removed  to  make  room  for  the  loaves.  Alto- 
gether, with  the  shining  floor,  and  the  gay,  be- 
flowered  home-made  mats  scattered  about  it,  and 
the  ample  dame  seated  in  the  firelight  at  her  low 
spinning-wheel,  her  bundle  of  flax  at  her  knee. 


.', 


!. 


.» 


114 


A  LITTLE  MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


the  whole  was  as  cozy  a  picture  of  homely  com- 
fort as  one  need  hope  to  find. 

But  the  other  figure  opposite — the  one  in  the 
scat  of  honor,  the  big,  upholstered  easy-chair — 
looked  far  from  comfortable.  There  was  a  flush 
on  her  delicate  face,  which  was  evidently  less  due 
to  the  fire  than  to  some  plain  speech  of  her  com- 
panion's ;  and  the  slightly  drooping  figure  in  its 
sheeny  black,  with  the  gauzy  scarf  falling  back 
from  the  soft  hair  a  little  faded  though  not  gray, 
had  a  deprecating  air  about  it,  which  was  also  in 
the  voice  that  said  : 

"  But,  Marguerite,  the  child — " 

"  Eh,  Madame  Jean,  the  child  is  well  enough. 
She  is  with  the  folk  she  has  always  known.  She 
need  not  be  in  haste  to  change — to  put  herself 
into  the  kneading-trough,  for  mamselle  Marie  to 
make  what  she  will  of  her.  Better  a  bit  of  good, 
sound,  honest  bread,  than  all  those  kickshaws 
mamselle  Marie'll  twist  her  into,  if  she  has  to 
break  off  a  pinch  here,  and  a  corner  there,  to 
shape  it  to  her  will." 

**  Certainly  she  has  comers  enough,"  said  the 
mother,  with  a  faint  sigh  ;  really  to  herself,  for 
she  had  remarked  that  the  sharp  old  woman  was 
rather  dull  of  hearing.  But  the  girl  in  the  door- 
way heard  her. 

It  may  be  doubted  whether  Marguite  did  not 
see  the  girl,  she  was  so  careful  not  to  glance  that 


A  LITTLE  MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


115 


way.  But  Madame  Jean's  back  was  turned  upon 
the  hesitating  figure. 

**  Lachuelle  ?  Mamsollc  Marie,  is  it  ?  "  Mar- 
guite  asked,  in  the  country  patois.  There  was  no 
one  who  had  fewer  corners,  nor  was  more  smoothly 
rounded,  than  tliis  same  Marie,  as  Marguite  well 
knew.  **Mamselle  Marie,  is  it?  And  is  that 
why  Madame  Jean  has  not  yet  married  her : 
qii'elle  sdche  stir  pied?" 

Madame  Jean  rose,  a  little  wearily.  There 
was  a  keen  zest  for  Marguite  in  these  ambushed 
sorties  on  the  enemy  ;  but  Madame  Jean  did  not 
care  even  to  act  on  the  defensive.  She  was  re- 
treating in  order,  gathering  her  draperies  about 
her,  and  answering  absently  : 

**  You  were  saying —  ?  But  it  is  growing 
dark  ;  I  must  not  stay  to  talk.  You  will  say  to 
my  girl,  for  me,  Marguite — " 

Turning,  she  faced  Fran^oisc. 

If  she  had  been  prepared,  she  might  have  met 
her  after  the  fashion  of  the  other  day  ;  but,  taken 
by  surprise  as  she  was,  all  the  mother  in  her 
moved  her  to  put  out  her  arms,  and  draw  the 
child  to  her  breast  in  a  long,  close  embrace. 

And  all  the  child  in  Frangoise  for  one  moment 
made  her  cling  there. 

Then  suddenly  the  pressure  of  the  soft,  round 
arms  relaxed,  and  the  mother  at  once  let  her 
go.  , 


i 


116 


A   LITTLE   MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


FraiKjoiso  stood  apart,  looking  at  licr  with 
fire  in  her  eyes. 

Had  she  trapped  her  into  the  caress :  this  fair, 
soft,  gentle  mother,  whom  she  could  so  love,  if  to 
love  her  did  not  mean  to  be  false  to  the  father  ? 

If  these  two  had  been  alone  with  one  another, 
perhaps  they  might  have  come  together  readily 
enough  ;  but  tante  Marguite's  presence  in  the 
background  was  as  if  it  thrust  them  apart. 

To  Frank,  she  was  a  breathing  warning  (rather 
a  hard-breathing,  not  to  say  contemptuously 
sniffing  one)  not  to  forget  her  allegiance  to  the 
father  who  would  still  have  been  leal  and  true  to 
Uncle  Frank,  if  a  soft  face  and  a  light  faith  had 
not  tempted  him  aside. 

And  Fran9oiso  must  not  be  tempted  to  sur- 
render at  a  glance. 

Though  she  would  not  have  said  this,  even  to 
herself,  it  was  this  that  chilled  her  manner,  while 
her  heart  was  aglow  within  her,  and  the  red  burn- 
ing in  her  cheeks,  and  a  light,  half-warm,  half- 
angry,  kindling  in  the  blue  eyes  uplifted  to  her 
mother^s  dark  ones. 

Yes,  they  were  dark,  like  Marie's  and  Ar- 
s^ne's  ;  Frank,  the  only  blue-eyed,  fair-haired  one 
among  them  all,  hardly  seemed  to  count  among 
her  children.  -t 

"Mignonne,"  her  mother  was  saying  (an  old 
name  which  Frank  had  half  forgotten),  "  if  it  had 


^ 


.*«■■■ 


A   LITTLE   MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


117 


d  Ar- 

ed  one 

imoTig 

in  old 

it  had 

not  been  for  these  stormy  days,  in  wliich  I  would 
not  bring  you  out,  I  should  liavo  come  for  you 
before.  Mario  took  too  much  upon  herself — " 
with  a  faint,  unconscious  sigh,  as  if  that  were  not 
altogether  abnormal  for  Afarie — "too  much  upon 
herself,  in  giving  consent  for  me  that  you  should 
bo  away  from  us.  Your  place  is  with  your 
mother  now.  To  be  apart  from  you,  mignonne — 
to  have  you  look  upon  me  as  a  stranger — child,  it 
is  mr  ;  ?  than  I  can  bear  ! " 

Frank's  color  camo  and  went.  She  put  her 
hand  to  her  throat,  with  a  catch  in  her  breath, 
before  she  couhl  say,  quietly  : 

"You  must  give  me  time,  mamma.  I — 
you  have  been  a  stranger  all  thebC  years — "  she 
burst  forth.  "  How  am  I  else  to  think  of  you  ? 
I  don't  know  anything  else." 

"You  can  not  remember  how  I  loved  my 
youngest,  my  baby  ?  "  the  mother  said. 

"  I  remember  you  sent  me  away." 

"  You  were  your  father's  legacy  to  his  old 
mother,  rran9oise.  As  for  me,  I  knew  it  would 
not  do.     But  he  thought  so." 

There  was  no  touch  of  blame  for  him  in  her 
voice ;  but  the  hot  flame  in  Fran9oise's  cheeks 
was  veering,  blown  by  gusts  of  passion. 

"  If  he  thought  so—" 

That  was  reason  enough  for  Franyoise  ;  and 
for  her  mother  too,  for  she  said  meekly  : 


-ym 


f- 


^^m. 


-% 


-^ 


118 


A  LITTLE  MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


"  He  thought  so  ;  and  wheii  he  asked  me,  I 
could  give  up  my  rights  to  his  mother  in  her  old 
age.     Although  I  knew  it  would  not  do." 

*'  If  \e  thought  so,  it  must  have  been  best." 

Madame  Jean  slowly  shook  her  head.  She  was 
not  conscious  of  the  movement.  She  was  only 
conscious  of  how  often  her  Jean's  impetuous,  un- 
considered will  had  gone  astray.  For  when  Jean 
had  wanted  anything,  he  had  wanted  it  abso- 
lately ;  he  would  never  stop  to  question  nor  to 
weigh.  From  the  time  he  had  wooed  the  young 
widow  in  hot  haste,  putting  aside  his  brother's 
leisurely  beginnings,  sweeping  her  as  it  were  from 
all  her  moorings,  in  his  vehemence — 

"If  he  thought  so,  it  must  have  been  best," 
the  daughter  was  saying. 

And  Madame  Jean  locked  her  lips  upon  those 
memories  of  hers. 

*'  That  is  all  over  now,  mignonne.  What  we 
have  to  do  now  is  to  arrange  our  lives  for  the 
present." 

"And  for  the  present,  mamma,  to  do  as 
Marie  said  :  to  leave  me  the  week  out  here,  to — 
to  get  used  to  things — and  to — to  be  made  pre- 
sentable." 

She  said  this  with  such  a  clear  imitation  of 
Marie's  voice  and  manner,  that  Madame  Jean, 
who  was  not  without  the  fear  of  Marie  before  her 
eyes,  faltered. 


/•'■' 


^'i 


^>'     }0' 


A   LITTLE  MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


119 


Frank  saw  her  advantage  and  pressed  it ; 
which  perhaps  she  would  not  have  done,  but  for 
her  mothers  hesitation. 

At  any  rate,  she  got  the  week  ;  Marie's  prom- 
ise was  confirmed  when  her  mother  turned  to  go 
away. 

Franyoise,  as  she  went,  stood  in  the  doorway, 
looking  after  the  graceful,  slightly  drooping 
figure  with  its  fluttering  black  draperies  against 
the  gray  twilight.  Her  mother's  kiss  was  warm 
upon  her  lips. 

"One  takes  more  flies  wiih  hon9y  th-^n  with 
vinegar,"  old  Marguite  said,  proverbially,  over 
her  shoulder,  watching  the  black  draperies  too. 

Frank  made  no  answer ;  only  turned  nway, 
and  appropriated  the  old  woman's  spinning- 
wheel,  which  she  set  briskly  in  motion.  She  fell 
to  humming,  with  a  touch  of  defiance  of  tears  in 
her  voice,  as  she  drew  out  the  shining  thread  : 


"  Le  grandp^rc  et  la  grand  'mfere, 

lis  avaiont  danse  ze  deux  tout  vi6— 
pansez,  fils,  et  accordez,  fi', 
Epargnez  pas  vos  soulicrs — " 


I ..,  '4 


120 


A  LITTLE  MAID   OF  ACADIE. 


IX. 

"  Little  EUie  sits  alone 
'Mid  the  beeches  of  a  meadow, 

By  a  stream  side,  on  the  grass  ; 

And  the  trees  are  showering  down 
Doubles  of  their  leaves  in  shadow 

On  her  shining  hair  and  face. 

She  has  thrown  her  bonnet  by, 
And  her  feet  she  has  been  dipping 

In  the  shallow  water's  flow — 

Now  she  holds  them  nakedly 
In  her  hands,  all  sleek  and  dripping. 

While  she  rocketh  to  and  fro." 


Just  this  one  more  day  of  freedom  ! 

The  girl  was  saying  this  to  herself,  determined 
to  make  the  most  of  it.  A  thoroughly  idle  day  ; 
not  even  a  pretense  of  a  book,  to  lend  it  a  sensible 
and  profitable  air.  For  monsieur  le  docteur  wr.3 
away  :  what  was  the  use  of  reading  ? 

She  sauntered  lightly  through  the  wood,  swing- 
ing the  little  green  and  white  Indian  basket  of 
sweet-hay  that  held  the  lunch  she  had  wheedled  out 
of  tante  Marguite.  She  thought  of  the  old  woman 
gratefully  ;  but  for  her,  would  she  still  be  free  to 
spend  this  last  day  in  dreaming  the  golden  hours 
away,  as  in  the  olden  time  ? 

The  olden  time  lay  less  than  a  year  behind 


A  LITTLE  MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


121 


wr.3 


thind 


her ;  yet  it  seemed  very  long  ago,  so  much  hud 
happened  since. 

Here  she  was,  pushing  her  way  up  the  stony 
hollow  where  she  had  first  seen  Kendal  flounder- 
ing in  the  stream.  But  how  altered  since  then  ! 
The  very  stream  in  its  course  babbled  of  change, 
as  it  poured  now  in  full  flood  over  the  rocks  be- 
tween which  it  had  dribbled  months  ago.  The 
stepping-stones  which  she  had  used  that  evening, 
were  submerged  ;  the  long,  shingly  beeches  were 
nowhere  to  be  seen,  and  the  clear  brown  water 
pressed  up  nearly  to  the  rolled  green  border  of 
the  alder-thicket : 

"  Suinmer  is  i-cumin', 
Loude  singe  cuckoo — " 

Frank  could  hear  the  songster  very  plainly 
from  the  old  barrens  beyond  the  alder-brake. 

So  much  was  in  those  barrens  !  The  birds, 
the  thrushes  and  the  warblers,  delight  in  them — 
and  so  indeed  do  the  bears,  though  they  prefer 
the  more  secluded  ones,  for  their  peaceful  banquet 
on  the  fragrant  strawberries,  the  red  raspberries, 
and  the  big  blueberries  with  the  bloom  upon  them, 
so  plentifully  spread  amid  the  fire-weed.  The 
wild  fruits  spring  up  fast  in  the  open,  where  for- 
est-fire on  forest-fire  has  cleared  and  cleared  again 
the  way  for  a  rotation  of  such  crops.  And  Frank 
knew  where  the  asters  and  the  ferns  and  pitcher- 


122 


A   LITTLE   MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


plant  grow  best,  and  the  sweet  little  pink-and- 
whito  "  twin-sisters  "  trail  close  to  the  ground, 
at  the  edge  of  the  damp  old  hard-wood  belt  that 
had  refused  to  burn.  The  "  twin-sisters  " — "  Mcl- 
erente-and-Anne,"  she  had  always  called  them. 
All  these  things  drew  her  across  to  them  irre- 
sistibly. 

But  how  ?  There  were  the  stepping-stones  ; 
but  there,  also,  was  the  water  over  them. 

Franyoise  looked  at  it  and  looked  at  them,  and 
ended  by  sitting  down  on  the  pebbled  bank  of  the 
stream,  and  in  a  moment  springing  up  again,  her 
skirts  kilted  about  her,  her  shoes  and  stockings 
in  her  hand,  and  a  pair  of  the  prettiest  little  white 
feet  in  the  world  twinkling  through  the  sunny 
reach  of  water  on  the  stepping-stones. 

Once  she  slipped  on  the  smooth-worn  rock, 
but  recovered  herself  instantly.  It  was  more  than 
an  instant,  however,  before  she  found  out  that,  in 
righting  her  balance,  she  had  let  fall  not  only  her 
freshly  gathered  tuft  of  bluebells,  but  one  of  the 
shoes  tucked,  as  she  thought,  safely  under  her  arm. 

She  did  not  know,  until  her  careless  glance 
was  caught  by  something  bobbing  up  and  down 
upon  the  eddy.  An  odd  little  black  boat,  that 
had  a  bluebell  nodding  in  it,  by  way  of  passenger. 
At  least  that  is  how  it  gets  itself  described  pres- 
ently. 

But  first,  she  sprang  to  a  stone  nearer,  and 


'  .V-' 


A    LITTLE   MAID   OF  ACADIE. 


123 


reached  out  after  it  in  such  haste  that  she  jeop- 
ardized her  footing  again.  She  might  have  lost 
it  altogether,  with  the  great  start  she  gave,  when 
round  the  bend  a  canoe  shot  past  her,  in  the  nar- 
row channel. 

She  had  reached  the  nearest  bank  in  haste 
before  she  saw  the  man  in  the  canoe  was  Dallas 
Fraser.  Less  than  a  moment,  and  he  had  capt- 
ured her  runaway  craft,  and  was  presenting  it  to 
her  with  a  remark  as  to  its  sailing  qualities. 

But  the  girl  had  made  herself  deftly  ready  to 
dispossess  the  bluebell,  and  thrust  her  trim  little 
blue-woolen-stockinged  foot  into  its  place.  Dal- 
las tried  not  to  watch  the  operation  too  fixedly, 
but  steadied  the  canoe  on  his  pole  among  the  ed- 
dies, as  he  said  : 

"And  so  at  last  I  have  found  you  again  ! " 

"It  conies  like  March  in  Lent,  monsieur,"  she 
said  coolly — "to  find  me  in  the  woods." 

"And  I  did  not  know  that  !  I  have  been 
watching  village  and  road  for  a  trace  of  you  ;  have 
even  been  down  to  your  school-room  among  the 
rapids — " 

"With  your  fine  ladies  from  the  house  ?" 

"  My  fine  ladies  I " 

"  Oh,  well,  they  are  yours,"  she  said,  lightly, 
"  in  the  sense  of  being  at  hand  there  for  your  idle 
moments,  when  the  serious  business  of  fishing  is 
over  for  the  day.     I  am  glad  I  was  not  in  my 


121 


A   LITTLE   MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


school-room,  as  you  call  ifc,  when  you  brought 
them  there.  They  would  have  found  nie  in  the 
way." 

"  It  was  not  I  who  brought  them  there. 
Every  one  goes  down  to  see  the  wells  in  the  foot- 
rocks.  But  why  should  they  have  found  you  in 
the  way  ?  " 

"  They  always  have." 

''They  always  have  ?" 

Frank  flushed  scarlet.  "What  was  she  saying  ? 
Telling  her  family  secrets  to  this  stranger  ! 

"They  always  have?"  he  repeated.  And 
then,  catching  inspiration  from  the  rush  of 
color  which  dyed  the  round  white  throat  and 
the  fair  outline  of  her  cheek,  as  she  turned  her 
head  aside — 

"Except  Frank!"  he  cried.  "This  Frank 
de  Landremont — this  youth  whom  I  have  chanced 
to  hear  his  sisters  mention  once  or  twice,  but 
who  seems  somehow  mysteriously  invisible  to  his 
guests — this  Frank  finds  himself  in  your  way  very 
often,  does  he  not  ?  " 

A  puzzled  glance  from  under  the  long,  dark 
lashes,  at  first ;  and  then  a  sudden  smile  dimpling 
about  the  corner  of  her  mouth. 

"  Very  often — "  demurely. 
And — come,  confess — it  is  on  this  Frank's 


II 


account  that  the  ladies  up  at  the  house — " 

He  hesitated  there.     Of  course,  he  could  not 


A.   LITTLE   MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


125 


echo  her  own  words  of  a  moment  iigo.    But  while 
he  hesitated,  she  said,  coolly  : 

*'  Find  me  in  the  way  ?  Yes,  truly ;  on  ac- 
count of  Frank." 

**  You  must  know  him  very  well,  indeed  !'* 

**  But  yes,  1  suppose  I  must.  Rather  better 
than  any  one  else  does,  at  least." 

*' And — no  doubt  vou  are  fond  of  him  ?" 

The  words  escaped  him  in  a  little  outburst  of 
jealous  impatience,  which  perhaps  he  did  not  un- 
derstand himself,  and  certainly  the  girl  did  not. 
She  answered  in  an  off-hand  way  : 

"  Oh,  yes,  indeed  !  Only — isn't  it  odd  ? — I 
do  get  just  a  little  tired  sometimes  of  the  constant 
companionship.  You  like  to  get  rid  of  everybody 
sometimes,  you  know  ;  and  to  have  any  one  per- 
petually haunting  you — " 

"  I'm  unlucky,"  interposed  Fraser,  sardoni- 
cally. "  I've  not  yet  seen  this  ubiquitous  Frank. 
Do  you  say  the  same  thing  to  him  of  me  ?  " 

She  lifted  her  brows. 

"  Of  you  !  How  could  I,  monsieur  ?  Me,  who 
have  met  you  but  three  times  and  two  halves  ?" 

"  Three  times  and  two  halves  !  "  he  repeated, 
laughing  at  her  computation.  "Pray,  how  is 
that  ?  I  am  sure  my  memory  is  at  least  as  good 
as  yours  upon  that  subject,  and  I  am  ready  to 
swear  to  thrice.     As  for  the  half-times — " 

"But  that  was  when  the  meeting  was  only 


126 


A  LITTLE  SIAID  OF  ACADIE. 


half-way  ;  all  on  one  side,  monsieur  understands  ? 
First,  on  that  same  day  of  the  great  arrival  at  the 
house  :  the  carriages  were  rolling  up  to  the  gate, 
and  I  was  hiding  behind  the  beaucoup — '* 

"  The  beaucoup  ?" 

*'(^a!  I  mean  what  old  Kiel  MacNiel  calls 
the  muckle  rain-cask,  at  the  corner  of  the  house. 
I  was  standing  there,  watching  monsieur." 

She  was  unconscious  of  the  subtle  flattery  in 
the  admission,  or  her  next  words  might  have  had 
more  meaning  in  them,  and  not  have  been  said 
quite  carelessly  : 

"  You  know  it  is  something  to  see  any  stran- 
ger at  all.  Or  you  would  know,  if  you  lived 
with  tante  Marguite.*' 

"Poor  child,  it  is  a  weary  life,  then  ?" 

"  Oh,  not  to  say  weary  ;  only  the  same  thing, 
always  the  same  thing  over  and  over  again.  It 
is  the  song  of  the  Korils,  those  elfish  dwarfs  away 
in  old  Bretagne."    And  she  began  to  sing  : 

"  Lindi,  mardi,  mercrcdi, 
Lindi,  mardi,  mercredi — " 

Dallas  Fraser  glanced  at  her  quickly,  when 
she  began,  the  clear  voice  like  a  bird's  piercing 
through  the  woodland  solitudes. 

If  he  had  only  told  her  at  first  that  he  was 
not  absolutely  alone  here,  as  she  doubtless  sup- 
posed him — that    nearly  the  whole  house-party 


A  LITTLE   MAID  01-'  ACADIE. 


12' 


had  wandered  out  here,  canoeing,  fishing,  camp- 
ing out,  as  such  a  party  can  merrily  enough,  in 
the  skirts  of  the  forest. 

But  as  he  looked  at  her  now,  it  was  impossi- 
ble for  him  to  speak  a  word  of  warning.  It  would 
be  an  impertinence.  Why  should  he  warn  her  ? 
Was  not  the  forest  her  cathedral,  to  sing  matins 
in,  as  the  birds  were  singing  tlicm  ? 

Nevertheless,  from  idly  toying  with  his 
paddle  in  the  water,  he  suddenly  shot  out 
into  the  middle  of  the  stream,  as  the  sound 
of  voices  reached  him  round  a  bend  in  the  alder- 
thicket. 

When  rran9oise  turned  her  head,  it  seemed  to 
her  there  was  a  flash  of  color  that  dazzled  her 
eyes. 

A  loaded  bateau  sweeping  down  the  stream  ; 
a  glow  of  scarlet  draperies,  as  here  and  there  a 
shawl  trailed  almost  in  the  water ;  a  flutter  ol 
blue-gauze  veils  and  ribbons ;  a  startled  exclama- 
tion : 

**  Frank!" 

There  was  Ars^ne  staring  across  at  her,  out  of 
the  bateau;  for  once  surprised  into  taking  the 
initiative,  as  Marie  sat  in  the  bow,  struck  speech- 
less by  the  sight. 

But  Marie  could  not  be  struck  speechless  for 
long. 

*'It  is  my  little  sister,"  she  said,  rapidly,  to 


.rr  7 


128 


A  LITTLE   MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


her  neighbors  in  the  boat.  ^'Idid  not  suppose 
slio  could  bo  with  us  yet.  To-morrow  she  was 
promised  to  us ;  not  to-day.  You  did  not  know  ? 
But  that  seems  strange  !  I  thought  every  one 
knew.  What  a  good  child,  Frank,  to  come  and 
join  our  party  ! "  she  cried,  putting  out  her  hand 
to  the  girl,  as  the  boat  pushed  in  among  the 
bushes  on  the  margin  where  she  stood. 

Frank  ! 

Dallas  in  his  canoe  sat  staring  at  her  as  if  the 
sun-dazzle  blinded  his  eyei'. 

Marie,  glancing  round  her  with  a  helpless  air, 
started  slightly,  as  if  she  saw  him  for  the  first 
time. 

**Mr.  Fraser  !  so  hero  you  are!  I  suppose 
this  wild  little  singing-bird  of  onrs  drew  you  here 
as  she  drew  us  ?  I  was  going  to  say  we  were  in  a 
difficulty  ;  but  now  that  you  are  hero,  I  may  hope 
that  we  are  out  of  it.  The  truth  is,  our  bateau 
is  too  full — " 

**But  my  canoe  is  at  your  service,"  cried  the 
young  man,  eagerly. 

**  Mr.  Fraser,  this  is  my  sister  Frank,  of  whom 
you  have  heard  us  speak.  And,  Frank,  Mr.  Fra- 
ser is  our  cousin,  more  or  less  removed — " 

"*Who  drags  at  each  remove  a  lengthening 
chain,' "  said  Dallas,  as  he  jDUshed  his  canoe  along- 
side. "That  is  the  worst  of  these  cousinships. 
The  best  of  them  is,  we  have  a  better  claim  than 


A   UTILE   MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


129 


the  outside  world  to  be  called  on  to  do  cousinly 
offices." 

"Then  you  will  take  Frank  on  board,  Mr. 
Fraser  ?  And  let  me  come,  too ;  the  bateau  is 
rather  crowded,  and  your  canoe  holds  three,  I 
think?" 

She  made  the  exchange  lightly  and  swiftly ; 
but  Frank  was  holding  back. 

**I3ut,  Marie,  tante  Marguite  ?  She  will  make 
me  a  heau  sabbat,  if  I  stay  away,  and  she  does 
not  know." 

"And  mamma?  Yes,  I  understand  your 
scruples,"  Marie  returned,  giving  the  girl  a  warn- 
ing glance  not  to  be  too  expansive.  "  One  of  the 
guides,  however,  is  going  back  to  the  village  from 
our  camp,  and  we'll  send  word  to  mother  and 
nurse  how  we  have  carried  you  off.  Come, 
child." 

The  pretty,  imperious  air  of  elder-sisterly  au- 
thority set  very  gracefully  on  the  beautiful  young 
woman,  who  from  amidships  in  the  canoe  was 
holding  out  her  hands  toward  Frangoise. 

But  it  was  Dallas  who  helped  her  in,  saying 
as  he  did  so,  under  his  breath  : 

"And  Mis  is  Frank!" 

"  My  7ieom  is  Marie  Fran9oise,"  the  girl  an- 
swered, demurely. 

But  there  was  dimpling  sunshine  in  her  face  ; 
sunshine  and  brightness  everywhere,  as  the  stream 
9 


130 


A    LITTLE   MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


swept  merrily  on,  and  beyond  Ihc  Fourche  tlie 
camping-ground  came  into  view. 

To  Fran9oiso  it  was  laughable  enough,  the 
eagerness  with  which  the  men  were  all  gathered 
into  a  knot  on  the  beach  at  the  water's  edge  :  one 
tall,  brown-bearded  fisherman  leaning  on  his  rod 
with  one  hand,  while  in  the  other  he  held  up  to 
view  the  trophy  of  that  rod — a  gleaming  salmon, 
a  twcnty-fivc-pounder ;  at  sight  of  which  the 
sportsman  next  him  let  his  dwarfed  trout  trail 
ignominiously  on  the  ground  as  he  stood.  Fran- 
9oise  brightened  and  nodded  as  she  caught  sight 
of  a  familiar  figure  behind  him.  **That  is  old 
Mande  Pig- Eyes,"  she  explained  to  Fraser.  "  lie 
is  from  down  Tobique-way  ;  he's  one  of  the  very 
best  of  the  guides,  Pacifique  says.", 

But  how  they  are  all  got  up  to  play  at 
work  !  all,  indeed,  but  that  veritable  sportsman, 
Mando  Pig-Eyes.  Pacifique  was  wont  to  grumble 
at  the  trouble  when  now  and  again  he  would  de- 
scend below  the  falls,  and  up  one  or  other  of  the 
tributary  streams,  in  search  of  salmon,  trout,  or 
pointic  noir ;  and  here  were  these  men  making 
game  of  toil,  and  turning  their  backs  upon  civili- 
zation— for  a  iark,  as  Dallas  Fraser  would  sav. 
And  the  fine  ladies  too  ;  some  of  them  filling  with 
color  the  doorway  of  the  big  tent  on  the  bank 
above  ;  two  or  three  of  them  just  stepping  from 
the  bateau  beached  a  moment  later  than  the  canoe. 


A   LITTLE  MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


131 


M 


"You  must  come  and  speak  to  ^frs.  Osborne, 
Frank,"  Mario  said,  at  once.  **  It  is  she  who  is 
matronizing  us  :  yonder  hero  of  the  hv^  fiah — 
salmon  is  it,  you  say  ? — is  her  husband. — Ali, 
thanks,  Mr.  Frasor ;  now  we  arc  both  out  dry- 
shod,  we'll  run  up  the  bank,  and  leave  you  the 
canoe. " 

Marie,  as  she  drew  her  little  sister's  arm  within 
hers,  was  wondering  why  she  had  not  before  so 
clearly  seen  how  charming  the  young  creature 
was.  She  was  in  her  own  place  out  here  in  the 
woods  :  blooming  and  free  and  natural,  where 
others,  some  of  them,  were  looking  and  feeling 
rather  artificial.  Marie  was  quite  taken  by  sur- 
prise ;  no  longer  shy,  and  as  unconscious  as  a 
child,  Frank  went  flitting  here,  there,  everywhere, 
helping  in  the  camping  preparations  ;  even  stop- 
ping to  hold  the  tent-cord  for  Mando  Pig- Eyes, 
while  on  the  sly  he  makes  the  sign  of  the  cross 
over  the  knot,  that  it  may  hold. 


132 


A   LITTLE   MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


X. 


"  Yes,  I  will  eay  what  mere  friends  say — 
Or  only  a  thought  stronger ; 
I  will  hold  your  hand  but  as  long  as  all  may — 
Or  so  very  little  longer." 

"  Mademoiselle  !  What  are  you  doing 
here  ?  " 

She  was  on  her  knees  in  the  bateau,  her  arms 
crossed  on  the  gunwale.  She  threw  a  laughing 
glance  over  her  shoulder  upon  Dallas  Eraser  as 
he  spoke  to  her. 

"  Doing  Y  Repeating  the  paternoster  of  Saint 
Do-nothing :  that  is  what  tante  Marguite  says  I 
am  usually  about.  You  may  come  and  help  mo, 
if  you  will :  the  saint  has  many  followers  in  this 
camp." 

He  came  down  to  her,  where  the  boat  was 
drawn  up  on  the  stony  beach  ;  and  as  he  stood 
beside  her^  he  could  see  what  had  brought  her 
there. 

The  trees  bordering  the  stream  stood  aside  to 
give  the  water  room,  and  so  left  a  clear  view  of 
the  northern  sky. 

It  was  all  glorious  with  northern  lights — fold 
on  translucent  fold  of  green  and  white  and  crim- 
son flapping  and  veering  about,  as  if  blown  to 
and  fro  in  a  strong  wind. 


t 


A  LITTLE   MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


133 


"  One  can  almost  hear  the  rustle,  as  the  cur- 
tains sweep  aside.  It  seems  as  if  tlioy  must  open 
straight  up  into  heaven  ! "  said  the  girl's  low 
voice. 

Dallas  had  seated  himself  on  the  gunwale,  not 
far  from  where  she  leaned  :  it  must  be  confessed 
his  eyes  were  oftener  on  the  dainty  profile  turned 
to  him,  than  on  any  thing  heaven-like. 

"May  be  heaven  is  not  so  far  off,  after  all  ?" 
8he  ventured  presently,  in  the  same  low,  half- 
Rwed  tone.  "  Bonhomme  Pacifique  says  there 
are  birds  that  can  find  the  way  to  the  upper  sea 
beyond  the  clouds — the  Sea  of  Glass,  in  paradise, 
you  know.  I  wonder  if  they  could  carry  a  mes- 
sage there  ?  Only,  it  is  an  answer  we  would 
want.  And  that,  perhaps,  would  not  be  what  we 
would  be  glad  to  hear." 

He  could  not  follow  her  thought,  as  Kendal 
might ;  nor  divine  that  she  was  fancying  the 
grandmere's  look  c?^  Jiant  en  has,  if  she  should 
hear  of  Madame  Jej.n  in  the  De  Landremont 
homestead,  and  little  Tran^uaise  out  here  with  a 
gay  party  irorn  Uiere. 

"  3Iais  02ii,  1  am  going  in.  It  is  quiie  late, 
I  am  afraid — "  th')  girl  broke  the  silen*.^  oy  way 
of  closing  her  ear  to  the  scornful  little  laugh  she 
could  fancy  floating  down  to  her  through  those 
swaying  curtain-folds.  For  grandmamma  wou]d 
be  much  the  same  up  thjre,  6U])pose  1     "  The 


^n 


134 


A   LITTLE  MAID   OF  ACADIE. 


lights  up  yonder  arc  deceiving  :  one  can  not  tell, 
sometimes,  if  sunset  is  fading,  or  the  aurora  begin- 
ning, when  the  whole  sky  is  colored  like  this. 
And  Marie  will  be  looking  for  me  back  to  supper. 
I  hope  monsieur  is  hungry?"  she  said,  with  a 
friendly  nod.  "  For  I've  wheedled  old  Mando 
Pig-Eyes  into  letting  me  make  the  bread,  in- 
stead of  his  endless  great  thick  buckwheat-cakes. 
And  let  mo  tell  monsieur,  though  I  say  it  that 
shouldn't,  my  bread  is  well  good,  if  it  hasn't 
been  kneaded  by  an  angel,  like  the  baker's  of 
Saint  Matthieu." 

There  was  something  too  **fey"  to  be  angelic 
in  the  laughing,  upturned  face ;  nor,  evi- 
dently, was  she  looking  for  the  hackneyed  com- 
pliment which  Dallas  knew  better  than  to  pay 
her. 

Instead,  he  was  avowing  himself  ready  even 
for  Maude's  buckwheats  smothered  in  maple- 
sirup  ;  how  much  more  for  mademoiselle's  handi- 
work !  **For  the  buckwheat-cakes  have  grown 
slightly  monotonous ;  even  that  wonderful  dish 
of  the  nursery  jingle  would,  if  set  before  the  king 
too  often,  don't  you  know  ?  " 

Fran^oise  did  know — Mother  Goose  having 
been  instrumental  in  her  early  English  educa- 
tion. But  she  was  vehement  in  defense  of  the 
buckwheat,  which  the  first  Acadians  had  brought 
with  them  from  Bretagiie.     Yet  monsieur,  look 


A  LITTLE  MAID   OF  ACADIE. 


135 


you,  must  not  suppose  there  is  nothing  else  that 
will  flourish  here  :  this  very  autumn,  tchi  voine, 
bonhomme  Pacifique  expects  to  gather  in,  besides 
potatoes,  four  or  five  hundred  bushels  of  nevaux — 
*^  et  p'is  il  tchuillcra  du  hUdad,  de  Vaouen — " 

Fran5oise  had  dropped  into  French,  in  her 
eagerness,  as  a  certain  personage  known  to  fame 
dropped  into  poetry  ;  but  she  stopped  suddenly, 
seeing  the  blank  of  her  companion's  face. 

*^Ah,  bah!"  she  said,  with  a  shrug;  *' mon- 
sieur is  like  Mario,  he  can  understand  no  French 
but  of  the  books.  Monsieur  will  not  get  that, 
among  nous  autres  acadiens.  Unless  sometimes 
from  the  old  books,  indeed  :  we  broke  off  with 
tlie  Grand  Monarque." 

It  was  rather  a  matter-of-fact  conversation,  to 
be  carried  on  under  the  stars  and  the  palpitating 
northern  lights  ;  but  grain,  and  turnips  even,  may 
borrow  interest  from  a  pair  of  red  lips  and  two 
bright  eyes.  Dallas  Fraser  was  impatient  enough 
of  the  interruption,  when  he  saw  Marie  come 
sauntering  down  toward  them,  by  the  path  the 
turf  began  to  show  for  these  few  days  of  camping 
here. 

Franjoisc  did  not  see — her  back  was  toward 
the  path. 

"  Let  ui?  go  and  superintend  our  chef  Mandu," 
Dallas  proposed,  quickly.  "It  will  never  do  to 
have  that  bread  spoiled  in  the  baking.     Come ; 


■IHWW*« 


136 


A  LITTLE  MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


you  owe  it  to  me  not  to  balk  me  of  the  promised 
feast." 

He  strolled  off  leisurely  with  her,  crossing  the 
open  space  in  a  direction  not  to  face  Marie.  "  Mrs. 
Grundy,"  he  was  calling  her  to  himself,  honestly 
forgetting  that  it  was  half  for  the  sake  of  her 
bright  eyes  that  he  had  found  the  Dallas  kinship 
so  easy  to  trace  on  shipboard,  and  the  De  Landre- 
mont  house  quite  in  the  road  of  his  Canadian 

tOu    , 

JV"^'  *  stood  looking  after  them  with  a  faint 
smile,  j  t"^'gnizing  his  sudden  shortness  of  vision. 
There  was  no  bitterness  in  the  smile,  only  a  little 
bland  cynicism. 

So  Miss  Innocence  was  quite  capable  of 
her  own  bit  of  flirtation  ?  —  and  could  be 
trusted,  unassisted,  to  forget  her  monsieur  le 
docteur  who  reminded  her  so  much  of  "Uncle 
Frank  ! " 

"We  are  all  alike,  we  women,"  Marie  was 
saying  to  herself,  half  scornful,  half  complacent. 
"  And  a  good  thing,  too — for  the  women.  But 
not  for  the  John  Kendals,  when  once  in  a  while  a 
John  Kendal  occurs.  Ah,  bah  !  what  does  it 
matter  ? — the  John  Kendals  have  the  best  of  life, 
after  all ;  they  carve  out  their  own  way,  and, 
whether  they  succeed  or  fail,  they  have  lived. 
While  we  women — oh,  we  women  think  we  take 
our  fate  in  our  own  hands  !    And  if  we  do,  once 


A  LITTLE  MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


137 


in  a  way,  wo  can't  keep  hold  of  it ;  we're  afraid 
or  ashamed  to  keep  hold  of  it,  and  so  we  let  it 
drop  ont  of  our  slack  grasp." 

She  let  her  hands  fall  slowly  apart  before  her, 
with  a  gesture  of  surrender.  And  then  she 
laughed  a  little,  mockingl}'. 

**Let  it  drop?  Ah,  but  he  will  think  they 
grasp  at  his  fast  enough,  now  that  his  are  no 
longer  empty  and  poor.  But  must  he  think  so  ? 
I  am  no  fool,  to  play  my  part  so  ill  as  that.  If  I 
can  not  manage  better  than  that,  I  might  as  well 
still  be  silly  little  Mary  Smith,  as  she  was  before 
these  dozen  years  were  her  schoolmasters  to  train 
her  into  Marie  de  Landremont.  And  even  silly 
little  Mary  Smith  was  not  so  silly  as  that.  No, 
no  ;  it  shall  go  well." 

The  blood  had  come  back  to  her  checks,  the 
sparkle  to  her  eyes,  as  she  strolled  on  into  the 
light  from  a  great  fire  of  logs  piled  in  the  midst 
of  the  encampment.  It  threw  a  ruddy  glow  far 
round,  beyond  which  the  woodland  belt  loomed 
the  darker  from  the  contrast,  now  that  the  au- 
rora was  beginning  to  flicker  out.  But  in  the 
center,  where  the  brightness  was  concentrated,  a 
small  figure  went  flitting  to  and  fro,  about  the 
wide-mouthed  oven. 

The  red-hot  coals  from  the  huge  fire  had  been 
heaped  inside  it,  and  then  raked  out  again,  and 
the  bread — Frank's  bread — put  in  to  bake.     And 


138 


A   LITTLE   MAID   OF   ACADIE. 


now  it  was  drawn  out,  a  very  triumph  of  light- 
ness and  whiteness  and  brown-crustiness. 

The  first  bit  must  be  broken  off  for  Dallas, 

He  took  it  quite  gravely,  and  began  to  muncli 
like  a  hungry  schoolboy,  declaring  that  never  was 
there  bread  like  this  before. 

Frank  stood  and  watched  him  with  an  air  of 
satisfaction,  her  hands  folded  placidly  before  her. 

"t/c  sus  hen  benaise,"  she  said,  complacently. 
*^It  might  have  been  baked  pas  Uong  assiz,  you 
know  ;  or  overbaked — " 

"  Hard  as  a  stone  ?  Yes,  I  know.  "Will  you 
always  be  so  good  to  me,  mademoiselle  ?  When 
T  asV  you  for  bread,  will  you  never  give  me  a 


scone  ?  " 


XL 


**  Strawberry  leaves  and  May -dew 
In  brisk  morning  air, 
Strawberry-leaves  and  May-dew 
Make  maidens  fair." 

"CoMMENT-OE  vous  portcz  'hord'hui  ?"  cried 
the  girl,  standing  still  with  a  courtesy,  and  a  laugh 
in  her  blue  eyes. 

It  was  far  up  the  bend  of  the  stream.  Dallas 
Eraser,  paddling  along  its  course,  and  expecting 


A  LITTLE  MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


139 


to  bring  back  a  string  of  breakfast  trout,  had 
looked  for  nothing  better  lying  in  wait  for  him. 
And  so  the  girl  was  a  surprise. 

Kot  that  she  had  been  lying  in  wait  for  him  ; 
she  was  as  much  taken  by  surprise  as  he. 

**  It  is  the  last  morning,"  she  said,  half  apolo- 
getically. "And  it  is  a  shame  to  lose  so  much  of 
the  bright  day  as  they  do,  Marie  and  the  rest.  I 
stole  out  for  a  long  ramble.  I  shall  be  back  be- 
fore they  are  half  ready  for  breakfast." 

*'  Not  sleepless,  eh,  mademoiselle,  and  tired 
of  the  rude  camp-life  ?" 

*'Mo,  I  always  sleep  like  a  sabot.  And  tired 
of  camp-life  in  a  week  ?  Yes,  when  the  week  of 
three  Thursdays  is  come.  Softly,  monsieur,  you 
will  have  the  canoe  aground." 

"  Can't  be  helped,"  he  asserted,  running  it  into 
the  bit  of  bank  where  she  was  standing.  "  There 
is  a  mysterious  magnetic  current  hereabout ;  my 
compass  is  all  astray ;  no  use  in  trying  to  steer 
away.  No,  you  don't  understand,  not  being  nau- 
tical. But  it's  very  easily  explained.  Not  while 
you  stand  aloof  there  ;  you  must  come  into  the 
canoe.  No,  you  will  never  get  that  dead  trail  of 
bramble  disentangled  from  your  dress  without  my 
help.  And  that's  a  perfectly  impervious  thicket 
just  beyond  you.  You  will  have  to  go  back  the 
way  you  came,  unless  you  take  to  the  canoe." 

She  let  him  hand  her  in  :  how  could  she  help 


■--.  .-rt  ■■■' 


140 


A  LITTLE  MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


it,  with  the  sun  slanting  over  the  freshening  water 
running  in  bkie  and  gold  and  airy  lines  of  foam 
where  the  breeze  strikes  it ;  and  the  green  woods 
crowding  down  to  the  very  brink,  where  they  can 
not  stop  themselves  before  a  branch  trails  here 
and  there  upon  the  swaying  current  ? 

And  there  is  the  praiseworthy  sense  of  being 
up  and  doing,  while  the  tents  behind  are  plunged 
in  drowsiness.  Nothing  could  be  more  meritori- 
ous in  the  eyes  of  the  whole  camp,  than  this  lay- 
ing up  of  silver  treasure  against  their  wakening. 
At  one  time,  Dallas  was  catching  the  trout  as  fast 
as  he  could  drop  his  flies  upon  the  water. 

Yet  the  treasure  did  not  seem  to  accumulate 
so  very  rapidly.  Dallas  was  puzzled — until,  turn- 
ing suddenly,  he  caught  Frangoise  in  the  act  of 
leaning  softly  over  the  water,  letting  a  young 
quarter-of-a-pounder  flash,  with  a  lively  flick  of 
his  tail  through  her  slim  fingers,  back  into  his 
element. 

"  Frank  ! " 

In  his  angry  astonishment,  he  does  not  know 
how  he  has  called  her. 

"  Ah,  par  exemple  ! "  she  says,  looking  straight 
at  him  with  a  defiant  shrug,  her  eyes  flashing,  her 
color  rising. 

She  is  taking  it  so  seriously,  that  Dallas  laughs 
outright. 

*'Are    you  furthering    sport?     Have    your 


k'- 


A   LITTLE   MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


141 


boasted  trout-streams  so  few  fish,  that  you  arc 
providing  mc  with  the  same  to  take  over  and  over 
again  ?  That  may  be  fun  to  you,  but  I  doubt  it 
is  to  the  trout." 

She  shrugs  lier  shoulder  again. 

"Best  leave  the  trout  and  me  to  arrange  that. 
All  you  have  to  do  is  to  catch  them.  You  bade 
me  take  care  of  them.  I  am  doing  it,  you  see. 
You  know  our  saying,  '  Where  every  one  minds 
one's  aifairs,  the  cows  are  well  kept.'  " 

*'And  where  is  that?  In  this  lucky  coun- 
try ?  " 

"  But  no  ! ''  She  shakes  her  head  at  him  gay- 
ly.  "  In  the  pays  de  sapience :  that  must  be  Nor- 
mandy, you  know,  where  I  get  my  yellow  head. 
Though  after  all  I  am  less  normande  than  bre- 
tonne." 

"  And  American,  too  ?  At  least,  I  have  heard 
your  sister  speak  as  if  she  were  at  home  in  the 
States." 

"Marie  is  different."  She  did  not  explain 
how,  but  went  on  presently  : 

"Mamma  was  born  in  the  States,  in  St.  Louis, 
where  Marie  went  to  school.  But  then,  all  mam- 
ma's people  were  Acadian,  carried  by  the  Eng- 
lish ships  down  into  les  Louisianes,  at  the  time 
of  the  dispersal,  when  all  Evangeline's  people 
were  scattered  to  the  winds  along  the  coast.  The 
Thibodeaux — (I've  heard  a  parish  down  there  still 


I- ;;} ' 


142 


A   LITTLE  MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


bears  that  name) — some  of  them  went  higher  up 
the  great  river,  to  the  new  settlement  at  St.  Louis, 
to  which,  then,  les  Louisianes  stretched  up.  Oh, 
grandmamma  has  told  me  all  about  it.  She  wished 
to  show  me  how  I  must  be  all  acadienne,  after 
all.  And  the  Thibodeaux  never  altogether  lost 
sight  of  their  kindred  here.  "When  mamma  was 
quite  a  young  girl,  she  came  and  spent  a  summer 
on  the  St.  John  ;  most  of  it  with  grandmamma. 
It  was  very  gay  that  summer  in  the  old  house ; 
it  must  have  been  like  this." 

Dallas  Fraser  checked  a  smile.  lie  had  found 
it  dull  enough  there  at  the  house.  "But  then 
there  was  the  Thibodeaux-de-Landremont  romance 
going  on,"  he  said,  tentatively. 

That  was  true  enough ;  but  so  much  of  it  as 
Frank  knew  she  was  silent  upon  :  otherwise,  she 
was  chattering  away  freely  enough.  Dallas  dis- 
covered that  she  believed  in  the  reality  of  the 
poet's  Evangeline,  and  was  ready  to  show  him  at 
home,  as  proof,  a  prose  French  version  of  the 
poem,  which  had  belonged  to  grandmamma. 
"And  Evangeline— ;?fl5s  si  bete,  moi! — Evange- 
line, to  run  over  the  universe  after  a  Gabriel  who 
for  his  part  was  amusing  himself  very  well  with 
his  buying  and  his  selling,  and  put  her  in  the 
rank  of  forgotten  sins,  to  be  recalled  on  his  death- 
bed I  Though  grandmamma  would  never  have 
let  me  say  that  I " 


\i 


A   LITTLE   iLVID   OF  ACADIE. 


143 


Shn  ended  with  a  smile  and  a  half  sigh,  re- 
membering how  little  grandmamma  had  ever  let 
her  say.  But  that  she  did  not  add  ;  though  it 
did  not  occur  to  her  how  freely  already  she  was 
talking  to  this  stranger. 

It  did  not  occur  to  her  that  he  was  a  stranger  ; 
with  such  responsive  good-fellowship  was  he  list- 
ening, and  looking  at  her  in  his  eager  way,  as  he 
let  the  canoe  drift  with  the  stream. 

It  is  so  easy  to  drift,  without  a  thought  of  the 
way  back  ;  without  a  thought  of  whither  one  is 
being  borne  on  in  the  sunshine,  when  the  trees 
and  blossoming  shrubs  are  alike  at  every  bend, 
and  the  same  ferns  and  mosses  stoop  down  for  the 
clear  brown  ripple  to  wash  through  them  ;  and 
when  one  is  looking  into  a  pair  of  eyes  as  blue  and 
bright  as  the  morning. 

It  was  just  then  that  the  current  twisted  the 
canoe  round  unawares  into  the  branching  stream 
that  ran  dancing  and  dimpling  mischievously 
away  with  these  careless  voyageurs,  into  the  very 
heart  of  the  wood. 


144 


A  LITTLE   MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


XII. 


'*  Song-birds  of  passage,  days  of  youth." 


The  merry,  dimpling,  miscliievous  ..wioani 
might  do  what  it  would  witii  them  both  :  neither 
FrangoisG  nor  Dallas  was  heeding  the  way.  When 
they  came  to  the  forks,  and  the  current  twisted 
them  round,  he  was  telling  her  of  sailing  up  the 
great  sea-lochs  at  home. 

*an  England  ?" 

"  What,  you  take  me  for  a  southron,  with  my 
Scottish  name,  forbye  my  gudc  Scots  tongue  ?" 

'*  Mais  oui,  I  took  you  for  the  rich,  rich  Eng- 
lish cousin — " 

Dallas  laughed  outright ;  but  the  g  aw 
nothing  either  to  laugh  at,  or  to  be  embarrassed 
by.  She  sat  trailing  her  hand  in  the  water,  look- 
ing at  him  with  a  puzzled  air,  until  he  had  ex- 
plained. 

"  It  is  not  that  I  «???,  but  that  I  Jiad,  a  rich, 
rich  English  cousin.  Otherwise  I  should  have 
had  no  more  gear  than  the  unlucky  Master  of 
Ravenswood,  without  a  Caleb  Balderstone  to  keep 
up  the  credit  of  the  house.  And  being  only  a 
cousin,  and  so  with  no  great  expectations,  I  had, 
don't  you  know,  to  make  my  own  way  in  the 
world." 


I' 


A   LITTLE   MAID  OF   ACADIE 


U5 


"  By  way  of  the  sea-loclis  ?  "  she  in([uired,  mis- 
chievously. 

**That  was  earlier.  I  dare  say  the  rou;2:hing 
it  helped  to  train  mo  in  the  way  I — rather  stum- 
bled into  than  chose.  You  see,  I  chanced  to  be 
abroad — " 

**0h,  ye?^,  I  know,  making  the  Grand  Tour," 
Frank  put  in,  with  a  wise  nod.  Slie  remembered 
reading  about  the  Grand  Tour  in  that  old-time 
diary  which  grandmamma  had  laid  hands  on,  as 
she  told  Kendal. 

Dallas  stared,  and  then  he  laughed. 

*'  It  was  not  exactly  tlie  grand  tour ;  rather, 
a  tramp  abroad.  I  was  doing  it  on  foot,  knap- 
sack on  back,  and  sometimes  a  forced  march  and 
a  hungry  one,  if  a  lean  purse  made  half-rations  : 
when  I  chanced  to  stumble  on  tlie  genuine  thing, 
the  knapsack-and-forced-march  gentry.  It  was 
on  the  borders  of  the  inexpressible  Turk,  down 
by  Bosnia  and  Herzegovina,  where  all  was  in  the 
tumult  of  war.     And  so  I — " 

Frank's  drip])ing  hand  flashed  up  out  of  the 
water  and  clasped  the  other  eagerly. 

**  You  became  a  soldier  ! " 

A  soldier,  a  hero,  she  might  have  said  ;  her 
eyes  spoke  for  her. 

Dallas  reddened,  and  threw  her  a  disconcerted 
glance. 

**  I  became — a  newspaper  correspondent." 
10 


146 


A  LITTLE  MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


"Oh!"   Her  face  fell. 

Dallas's,  also.  He  paddled  on  without  speak- 
ing, staring  dully  down  into  the  water  for  one 
moment  of  profound  discouragement,  before  he 
plucked  up  heart  of  grace  to  prove  to  her  that 
newspaper  correspondents  can  be  heroes  as  well  as 
soldiers. 

He  did  not  take  himself  and  his  own  exploits 
for  the  text  of  his  proof  ;  it  was  clear  that  he  pres- 
ently forgot  himself,  in  telling  of  the  daring  of  a 
certain  well-known  countryman  of  his.  It  was 
not  his  fault  if  the  girl,  listening  eager-eyed,  and 
with  the  quick  blood  flickering  in  her  cheeks,  saw 
two  bold  adventurers  where  the  story-teller  named 
but  one. 

She  drew  a  long,  deep  breath,  when  they 
reached  that  crest  of  the  Balkans,  and  saw  the 
battle  going  on  beneath  them,  in  the  mountain 
mists. 

**01i,  and  is  that  being  a  newspaper  corre- 
spondent ?  and  I  who  thought  you  must  be  a  sol- 
dier to  be  a  hero  !    Eh,  you  must  be  as  brave — " 

He  colored  high. 

"  *  I  the  little  hero  of  each  tale  ?  *  But  I  was 
not  speaking  of  myself." 

She  nodded  at  him  confidently. 

*^  As  if  I  did  not  know  ;  as  if  I  could  not  tell ! 
Et  p'ls  ? — go  on  I "  impatient  of  the  interrup- 
tion. 


A  LITTLE   MAID  OF   ACADIE. 


147 


It  is  not  in  man,  from  Othello's  day  to  Dallas 
Fraser's,  to  tell  a  story  the  more  coldly  because  a 
Dcsdemona  listens  : 

"  '  She  loved  me  for  the  dangers  I  had  passed, 
And  I  loved  her  that  she  did  pity  them,' " 


Dallas  presently  caught  himself  saying,  under  his 
breath. 

"  What  is  that,  Mr.  Fraser  ?  Tell  me  again. 
I  won't  lose  anything  that  happened." 

He  looked  at  her  with  a  quizzical  gleam  in  his 
eyes,  half  laughter,  half  embarrassment. 

"  But  I  am  not  at  all  sure  it  happened — the 
first  part  of  it,  I  mean." 

"  Is  it  that  you  have  been  telling  me  some- 
thing that  did  not  actually  happen  ?  And  I  list- 
ening and  believing  all,  trying  of  all  my  best  to 
remember  the  vatz,  and  niks,  and  nitzas  of  those 
dreadful  names  !  '* 

**\Vill  you  really  remember  anything  about 
them  and  me?"  he  cried.  ''May  I,  indeed, 
hope  you  will  not  forget  me  altogether  ?  " 

"  Monsieur  took  care  to  prevent  that,  the  first 
time  we  met,"  she  said,  dryly. 

She  caught  hold  of  the  chain  about  her  throat, 
and  drew  out  a  round  and  shining  something 
which  had  been  hidden  under  her  kerchief's 
folds. 


1 


■Ji^" 


148 


A  LITTLE  MAID   OF  ACADIE. 


"  Monsieur  remembers  this  ?" 

He  stared  at  the  coin  ;  then,  with  a  rush  of 
blood  to  his  face,  put  out  his  hand  confusedly. 

"  Give  it  me.  How  shall  I  ever  explain  ? 
What  a  fool,  what  a  fool  I  was  !  and  that  you 
should  keep  the  remembrance  of  my  folly  hke 
that  !   No,  you  must  give  it  back." 

For  she  was  slowly  settling  it  ai^ain  into  its 
hiding-place  under  tlie  white  mus.    .  folds. 

She  shook  her  head  at  him,  laughing. 

"  Folly  ?  But  why  should  it  have  been  folly  ? 
Unless,  indeed,  a  sixpence  might  have  done  ?  " 

"Frank!" 

The  hurt  tone  checked  her  at  once.  She  just 
touched  his  sleeve  lightly,  with  a  friendly  nod. 

"  But  I  won't  have  a  sixpence  instead  of  it. 
I  won't  have  anything  but  just  this  that  you  have 
given  me.  I  mean  to  keep  it,  and  wear  it,  since 
it  has  the  most  convenient  hole  to  hold  my  bit  of 
chain." 

After  all,  need  he  feel  unalloyed  annoyance 
that  she  wore  his  gift  ?  It  was  half  doubtfully 
that  he  said  again  : 

"I  wish  you  would  let  me  have  it  back." 

But  he  seemed  to  have  lost  her  attention.  She 
was  glancing  about  her ;  the  sun  looked  higher 
than  it  should  be,  as  it  filtered  through  the 
branches  overhead. 

"We  certainly  have  come  too  far.      I  am 


A   LITTLE   MAID   OF  ACADIE. 


Ud 


afraid  your  trout  will  hardly  be  for  breakfast. 
We  must  turn." 

What  can  be  easier  ?  The  stream  was  run- 
ning merrily,  hurrying  them  along.  When,  on 
a  sudden,  the  girl  turned  on  Dallas  with  a  sharp 
ring  in  her  voice  : 

"  The  alders  !   We  never  came  this  way." 

There  they  are,  the  alders  :  no  longer  a  rolled 
edge  along  the  border  of  the  river  ;  but  a  choking 
brake,  laying  branches  low  upon  the  glossy  sur- 
face, leaning  together  across  it. 

Back  the  canoe  went,  to  avoid  them  ;  up  and 
down  another  silvery  loop  :  presently  entangled 
in  just  such  another  network. 

But  there  was  the  tinkle  of  clear  water  ahead  : 
the  day  had  grown  so  still,  it  could  be  heard. 

"The  river  is  calling  to  us,"  Dallas  said, 
cheerily.  "We'll  try  if  this  branch  is  a  guide 
to  it."  #;' 

Not  a  very  willing  guide,  apparently  ;  thrust- 
ing obstacles  of  overlapping  boughs  in  the  way, 
until  the  two  voyagers  had  to  lean  low  in  the  ca- 
noe, abandon  pole  and  paddle,  and  grope  through 
the  green  smother  by  catching  at  the  boughs 
overhead,  and  so  pulling  themselves  along. 

When  with  the  last  pull  they  shot  out  into 
the  widened  stream  rushing  clear  and  free  over 
its  rocky  bed,  the  sense  of  relief  was  so  great  that 
it  left  them  leisure  to  discover  it  was  long  past 


'■i  '' 


150 


A  LITTLE  MAID   OF  ACADIE. 


breakfast-time,  and  nothing  could  be  better  than 
a  trout  broiled  on  the  pebbly  beach.  Frangoise 
must  heap  a  platter  of  green  leaves  with  fragrant 
red  wild  berries  on  the  border  of  the  wood. 
"Now,  if  we  had  that  plump  wild  pigeon — " 

But  Fran9oise  put  herself  between  Dallas 
and  the  canoe,  in  the  bottom  of  which  lay  his 
gun. 

"  It  is  not  loaded  ?  I  am  glad.  I  won't  have 
the  birds  shot.  If  we  only  had  some  tea,  now,  to 
keep  it  from  being  a  dry  repas  de  hrehis ! " 

There  was  the  river- water,  amber-clear,  and 
sparkling  over  the  pebbles  in  a  rift  of  sunshine. 
Elsewhere  the  trees  put  their  heads  together  to 
shut  the  two  in,  as  if  to  make  a  happy  secret  of 
the  hour  that  went  by  so  fast. 

But,  also,  they  shut  out  the  sky  ;  there  was 
no  hint  of  how  the  day  was  changing,  until  a  mut- 
ter of  thunder  told  it. 

Franjoise  paled  a  little  at  the  sound.  "  (7« 
m^apeurit !  ^*  she  said,  startled  into  forgetting  her 
English — *'  (Ja  m^apeurit!  " 

"  The  thunder  ?  The  only  danger  is  of  a 
wetting.  That  is  bad  enough  for  you.  And  see, 
here  comes  the  first  sharp  patter  on  the  leaves 
overhead.  It  is  well  that  they  are  so  thick.  But 
we  must  find  better  shelter  than  this." 

Happily  it  was  not  far  to  seek,  when  they 
pushed   into    the    brushwood — a   great,   hollow 


It 


A   LITTLE   MAID   OF  ACADIE. 


151 


cedar,  aged  as  if  it  might  have  been  one  of  those 
into  which  the  Indian  wizard  Glooscap  metamor- 
phosed the  two  brothers  who  came  begging  from 
him  length  of  days  and  strength  and  stature,  all 
for  themselves,  and  not  to  serve  their  fellow-men. 
This  cedar  served  Fran9oise  with  a  sort  of  sen- 
try-box refuge  now,  as  Dallas  told  her.  He  stood 
leaning  against  the  trunk,  speaking  to  her  en- 
couragingly from  time  to  time,  when  there  was  a 
lull  in  the  fury  of  the  storm. 

'*  This  is  pretty  well  in  its  way.  But  if  you 
had  ever  seen  what  it  can  do,  in  this  line,  in 
India—" 

Crash  !  went  the  bushes,  a  stone's-throw  away. 
Frank  clasped  her  hands  and  leaned  forward  : 
was  it  a  tree  flung  down  so  close  to  this  ?  Dallas 
turned,  and  stared  straight  into  a  pair  of  black, 
fiery  eyes. 

Stared  straight  into  them,  before  he  took  in 
the  shaggy  black  body  hurling  its  cumbrous 
length  over  a  fallen  trunk — tearing  through  the 
vines,  crashing  down  the  oianches ;  his  snarling 
lip  curled  up  over  the  sharp  white  teeth,  his 
hoarse  bear's  growl  thrilling  the  hush. 

There  is  not  a  moment  Dallas  reaches  out 
mechanically  for  his  shot-gun  leaning  against  the 
tree,  unloaded  as  it  is. 

Not  a  moment ;  but,  when  he  turns  again  to 
fling  himself   forward   between  the  brute    and 


I 
■ill 

i; 
k 


M 
I 


1 1 

I 


PH 


'ItoV 


152 


A   LITTLE   MAID   OF  ACADIE. 


Franyoiso  in  her  hiding-place,  she  stands  before 
liim. 

'*  Frank!" 

A  thunder-crash,  that  deadens  his  hoarse  cr}' ; 
a  lightning-glare,  tearing  the  very  heavens  in 
two,  and  kindling  all  the  glooming  forest  with  a 
lurid  glow,  against  which  trunk  and  twig  stand 
out  in  black,  and  the  great  black  brute — 

The  great  black  brute  is  cowering  for  fear ; 
like  a  whipped  hound,  is  slinking  away  through 
the  underbrush  :  as  though  that  grand  outburst  of 
wrathful  Nature  were  planned  for  his  own  indi- 
vidual confusion. 

And  Francjoise  and  Dallas  stood  clasping 
hands,  as  if  that  outburst  were  for  their  own  in- 
dividual salvation. 

Without  a  word.  But  what  need  could  there 
be  of  words  between  them  anv  more  ?  Dallas 
seemed  to  think  that  there  was  none,  for  present- 
ly he  had  her  in  his  arms. 

When,  glowing  with  confusion,  she  made  a 
movement  to  withdraw  herself,  he  released  her  at 
once. 

"  Sweetheart,  I  can  let  you  go,  because  I  have 
you  fast !  You  would  have  given  your  life  for 
mine  ?  But  don't  you  know,  then,  Frank,  that 
yours  is  mine  ?  " 

"I  —  it  was  only  —  it  was  all  my  fault — " 
she    stammered,    blushing   painfully.      "For  I 


A   LITTLE   MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


153 


would  not  let  you   load  your  gun   this   morn- 


5> 


ing, 

He  pulled  out  his  powder-flask  now,  and  pro- 
ceeded to  load. 

"  Not  that  we  will  need  it  again  ;  the  very 
heavens — thank  God — "  he  lifted  his  hat  rever- 
ently— '* fought  for  us.  Master  Bruin  will  never 
venture  to  show  his  snarling  black  muzzle  in  this 
spot  again." 

He  laughed  a  little  unsteadily.  '^It'sacase 
of  '  after  death  the  doctor/  with  these  leaden  pills 
of  mine." 

The  doctor  I 

Frangoise's  lips  whitened  again.  She  stole  a 
swift,  guilty  glance  at  this  new  lover  of  hers, 
standing  bareheaded  in  the  rain,  a  glow  of  tri- 
umph about  him,  a  look  of  success,  and  confidence 
in  fortune,  and  will  to  have  his  own  way. 

"I  have  you  fast." 

But  he  did  not  repeat  it ;  and  if,  in  the  hours 
that  followed,  he  told  her  he  loved  her,  it  was  only 
by  a  glance,  or  a  thrill  in  some  commonplace  word. 
These,  while  they  spoke  plainly  enough,  need  not 
frighten  the  poor  little  fluttered  girl  with  press- 
ing for  an  answer. 

The  storm  soon  raved  itself  out ;  the  sun,  shin- 
ing toward  its  setting,  beamed  cheerfully  upon 
the  twisting  streams  that  rushed  on  from  their 
suddenly  overflowing  springs.     The  pebbled  sand- 


n 


154 


A   LITTLE  MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


bars,  tho  wide  beaches,  were  all  hidden  now ; 
Frangoise  and  Dallas  might  float  over  them,  with- 
out a  recognition  of  the  shallows  which  this  morn- 
ing had  threatened  the  canoe  with  grounding. 
When  the  forest-ways  are  water-ways,  a  deluge 
like  this  is  sure  to  confuse  them. 

Here  and  there  the  foliage  made  a  dense  roof 
overhead,  shutting  out  the  sun  that  might  have 
given  them  some  guidance  as  to  the  direction  of 
the  camp.  But  then,  as  Frank  pointed  out,  his 
guidance  was  superfluous  while  the  trees  by  the 
way  gave  them  so  many  hints — the  thickest  moss 
upon  the  north  side  of  the  trunks,  the  heaviest 
spruce-boughs  always  on  the  south. 

They  were  hints  which  could  not  always  be  fol- 
lowed, however  :  the  course  of  the  streams  often 
forbidding.  For  the  canoe  was  not  to  be  aban- 
doned, even  when  now  and  again  the  hoarse  brawl- 
ing of  a  rapid  threatened  to  stop  the  way.  Then 
Dallas  found  the  girl  fearless  and  cool,  and  ready 
to  do  her  part  in  steering,  paddling  quietly  in  the 
stern,  while  in  the  bow  the  skilled  canoer  was  free 
to  watch  the  current,  his  paddle  grasped  in  his 
two  hands,  the  blade  straight  under  water,  turned 
rudder-like  now  this  way  and  now  that.  The 
water  curling  alongside,  the  handful  of  diamond- 
spray  flung  glittering  into  the  sunshine,  the  gid- 
dy descent,  and  triumph  of  the  floating  into  a 
smooth  stretch  beyond  :  the  girl  was  glowing  and 


A   LITTLE   MAID  OF   ACADIE. 


155 


sparkling  with  it  all,  and  quite  forgetting  every- 
thing except  the  present  moment. 

"  We  shall  come  upon  the  camp  itself  present- 
ly, without  knowing  it,"  Dallas  declared,  gayly, 
determined  not  to  betray  his  anxiety  at  the  situa- 
tion. *^  It  would  be  too  bad  to  take  them  una- 
wares, in  the  midst  of  discussing  us  and  our 
escapade  ;  les  abscns  ont  toujours  tort,  you  know. 
So  I  am  going  to  fire  a  blank  cartridge  now  and 
then,  as  our  herald." 

Would  it  be  answered  ?  It  was  a  forlorn  hope  ; 
and  half  a  dozen  times  it  failed. 

But  on  tlie  seventh,  there  was  a  faint,  far-away 
reverberation  ;  it  might  have  been  an  echo,  but 
an  Irish  one,  that  gave  a  cheery  answer. 

When  it  was  repeated  again  and  yet  again,  the 
canoe  was  turned  and  headed  for  the  sound  ;  al- 
though the  sun  pointed  out  the  fact  that  it  was 
straight  away  from  the  direction  in  which  the 
camp  ought  to  lie. 


*. 


fi' 


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t 


'"ih. 


■^^  .^"h,^ 


M 


m^ 


156 


A  LITTLE  MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


% 


XIII. 


"  H61as,  je  sals  un  cbant  d'ltmour' 
Triste  ou  gai  tour  h  toui*— 
Ce  chant,  qui  dc  mon  coeur  s'elbve, 
D'oii  vient  qu'cn  plcunint  jo  I'acheve  ?  " 


Yonder,  on  the  green  bank,  it  is  not  the 
usual  cozy  cottage  of  the  pioneer  habitant,  that 
stands  with  gayly  paneled  doors  and  sloping 
whitewashed  roofs ;  but  the  log-cabin  of  a  lum- 
ber-camp, with  wooden  table  nailed  to  the  floor, 
and  bunk-like  beds  against  the  wall.  In  one  of 
these,  on  a  mattress  of  springy  spruce-boughs, 
was  lying  a  lumberman  with  a  leg  fractured  by 
the  falling  of  a  tree ;  waiting,  in  what  patience 
he  might,  for  the  doctor  who  had  been  sent  for. 
His  more  patient  wife  was  with  him,  and  there  was 
nothing  for  any  one  else  to  do.  So  Franyoise 
wandered  out-of-doors ;  smiling  a  little,  tremu- 
lously, to  herself,  as  she  reflected  that,  in  Dr. 
Kendal's  absence,  the  doctor  must  be  the  one 
down  Tobique-way,  who,  according  to  bonhomme 
Pacifique,  sends  his  patients  so  promptly  on  tho 
short-cut  into  the  other  world. 

Far  more  desirable  than  the  inside  of  the  cabin, 
was  the  outside,  with  the  softest  of  evening  winds 


?^'' 


A  LITTLE  MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


157 


blowing,  and  tlie  moon  throwing  its  faint  white 
light  into  the  very  midst  of  the  sunset  still  glim- 
mering on  the  lake. 

It  is  a  bit  of  winding  water  that  well  deserves 
its  flowing  Indian  name,  as  it  bends  and  turns  be- 
tween the  gaps  of  ferny  hills  stripped  bare  of  tim- 
ber by  the  lumbermen.  Just  here,  a  ledge  of 
broken  rock  runs  out  into  the  water,  offering 
Fran9oise  an  elbow-chair,  with  the  gleaming  rip- 
ple twinkling  at  her  feet.  She  thought  she  was 
well  hidden  there  ;  until  at  the  sound  of  her  own 
name  she  turned — to  find  Dallas  leaning  with 
arms  folded  on  the  high  back  of  her  chair. 

"  I  have  been  looking  for  you  every — " 

He  broke  off ;  surely  there  were  tears  in  the 
eyes  slowly  averted  from  him  ? 

"Frank,  you  are  not  frightened? — you  are 
not  unhappy  ?  This  is  a  safe  bield  until  they  come 
for  us :  which  they  may  any  hour,  now  that  a 
messenger  is  gone  to  the  camp.  And  that  is  a 
canny  gudewife  in  yonder,  who  will  have  you  in 
charge  until  your  friends  are  here." 

She  answered  nothing.  Perhaps  she  was  try- 
ing to  steady  her  voice. 

It  did  not  help  her,  that  he  swung  himself 
over  the  ledge  and  stood  beside  her. 

"  Sweetheart,  look  up !  Why  do  you  turn 
from  me  ?  Are  you  angry  with  me  for  what  I 
said  to  you  awhile  ago  ?  " 


III 
ill 


mm 


158 


'"•if-    -  "v 
A  LITTLE   MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


She  did  look  up  now,  not  understanding. 
'*  Awhile  ago  ?" 

lie  laughed  rather  unsteadily. 

"Do  we  keep  up  the  French  fashions  here  in 
the  forest  ?  Ought  I  to  wait  for  some  one  to 
speak  for  me  ?  Can  I  not  say,  in  the  straight- 
forward Saxon  way  :  Frank,  I  love  you  ;  be  my 
wife  I " 

The  words  might  seem  confident ;  the  voice 
was  not,  the  eyes  were  not,  though  ho  had  taken 
her  hands  masterfully  in  his. 

She  hardly  heard  him.  She  was  not,  indeed, 
tliinking  of  him. 

She  had  come  out  here  to  fight  her  battle  by 
herself  :  that  battle  which  her  mother  had  given 
up  in  a  cowardly  fashion  Fran^oise  had  so  scorned. 

Her  lip  curled  now  ;  but  it  was  in  scorn  of 
herself,  not  of  her  mother.  "  *  Blood  can  not 
lie,'  grandmamma  always  said — " 

She  turned  to  Dallas  in  a  passion  of  haste, 
snatching  her  hands  away. 

*^  I  am  not  going  back  to  the  camp.  I  am  go- 
ing home  to  my  mother.  My  mother  I  She  can 
understand,  she  can  forgive." 

**  Frank — Frank,  my  darling — " 

She  had  started  to  her  feet ;  her  f  ice  ^ 
white,  her  whole  frame  was  in  a  qn'^*^ 

"No- -not  that,  not  that !  It  not  matte 
to  you  long.     For  what  am  I  but  u  poo-  little. 


J 


A   LITTLE   MAID   OF  ACADIE. 


159 


ignorant  girl,  unfit —  But  I  will  go  back  to  my 
mother.     /SAc  will  understand." 

She  moved  away  sharply,  as  if  to  seek  her 
mother  that  same  moment.  She  pushed  past 
Dallas,  and  round  beyond  the  elbow  of  that  ledge 
of  rock. 

In  her  hurry  to  escape — not  from  Dallas  only, 
but  from  herself,  ready  enough  to  play  the  traitor 
and  yield  to  him — it  did  not  work  a^ifainst  her, 
that  beyond  that  ledge  they  were  no  longer  alone. 
Three  men  were  coming  down  the  hill  that  bris- 
tled with  the  ghosts  of  dead  trees,  some  of  them 
girdled  and  white  as  birch-stems,  others  charred 
and  blackened  by  old  forest-fires. 

Foremost  was  the  guide,  who  stepped  out 
briskly  ahead  :  a  grotesque  figure,  with  head  and 
shoulders  thrust  forward  out  of  the  canoe  slung 
on  his  back  for  the  portage.  Behind  him  tramped 
the  other  two  men,  silently,  though  side  by 
side. 

Frank — picking  her  way  over  the  stones,  with 
Dallas  Fraser  following  somewhat  sulkily  behind 
her,  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  not  offering  to  help 
her  as  she  turned  her  back  on  him — Frank  glanced 
at  the  two,  and  saw  they  were  not  lumbermen. 
The  nearest  one  was  a  stranger  to  her  ;  the  other, 
with  the  wallet  across  his  shoulder,  was  probably 
the  doctor  from  down  Tobique-way  ?  But  surely 
this  man  was  taller,  broader — 


IGO 


A   LITTLE   MAID   OF   ACADIE. 


"  Dr.  Kendal ! "'  she  cried  out  suddenly. 

He  looked  as  if  he  could  not  trust  his  eyes. 

Yet,  after  all,  there  was  no  one  like  Fran- 
yoise. 

He  stood  still,  and  sent  the  guide  on,  with  a 
hasty — 

"Tell  Laforest  I  will  be  with  him  presently." 

Then  he  turned  to  the  girl. 

She  put  out  both  her  hands  to  him  ;  laughing 
with  the  sound  of  tears  in  her  voice,  and  a  strange, 
unmirthful  look  on  her  white  face.  There  was 
light  enough  yet  in  the  sky  shining  down  on  them 
to  show  him  that. 

*'What  has  liappened?"  he  asked  her  ea- 
gerly. 

But  for  a  shade  of  anxiety  for  the  look  on  her 
face,  his  own  was  beaming,  oager ;  in  his  eyes  a 
gladness,  almost  a  triumph,  new  to  her.  He 
glanced  at  Dallas  Fraser ;  it  was  easy  to  see  ho 
found  him  in  the  way,  though  he  tried  not  to 
show  it,  as  Fran9oise  meiitioned  Mr.  Frascr's 
name,  and  hurriedly  sketched  the  day's  advent- 
ures. 

The  stranger  stood  by  listening,  and  looking 
at  the  girl  somewhat  intently  while  she  was 
speaking.  When  Kendal  would  have  drawn  him 
into  the  conversation,  he  stopped  him  with  a 
warning  hand  upon  his  shoulder. 

But  when  she  had  finished,  tho  stranger  him- 


A  LITTLE   MA!I)  OF  ACADIE. 


IGl 


self  came  a  step  nearer,  and  held  out  his  hand  to 
Eraser  with  bluff  heartiness. 

"No  doubt  my  little  maid  has  been  properly 
grateful  to  Mr.  Eraser ;  but  she  must  let  me  add 
my  thanks  for  losing  the  way,  and  so  bringing 
Frank  to  meet  mo  here." 

*^  Frank  ?" — She  was  staring  at  him,  her  eyes 
rounded,  her  lips  parted. 

With  a  glad  cry  she  sprang  into  his  arms,  held 
out  for  her. 

"Uncle  Frank!  Can  it  possibly  be  Uncle 
Frank  ?" 

"  Can  it  possibly  be  any  one  else  for  my  little 
maid  ?  Or  how  many  knights-errant  has  she 
roaming  through  the  woods  in  search  of  her  ?  " 

She  was  sure  of  Uncle  Frank  now,  when  he 
mocked  at  her  gayly,  as  in  the  old  days  ;  and  she 
locked  her  hands  over  his  arm,  while  the  four 
moved  on  in  the  direction  of  the  cottage. 

After  all,  the  years  had  wrought  less  change 
in  carrying  the  man  from  the  edge  of  the  forties 
into  the  fifties,  than  they  had  with  the  girl. 
They  had  blurred  the  likeness  between  the  two 
Franks,  which  now  was  little  more  than  a  blond- 
ness  brought  down  from  a  common  Norman  in- 
heritance. Fran9oise's  childish  remembrance  of 
him  began  to  come  back  vividly,  as  they  saun- 
tered on  together. 

Kendal  and  Dallas  were  not  sauntering;  so 
11 


162 


A  LITTLE  MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


that  these  two  behind  were  presently  tcte-a-tete. 
As  soon  as  De  Landrcmont  perceived  this,  he  grew 
graver. 

"  Little  maid,  why  should  I  wait  for  a  more 
convenient  opportunity  to  disabuse  you  of  an  im- 
pression which  my  friend  Kendal  tells  me  has 
been  rankling  in  your  small  breast  almost  ever 
since  you  and  I  parted  ?  It  is  old  Marguite  who 
lias  put  it  there.  The  mother  and  I  are  good 
friends  enough,  little  maid — not  at  all  the  ene- 
mies Marguite  would  make  us  out." 

"  You  are  so  good,  Uncle  Frank  !  " 
"  And  the  mother  so —  ?  No,  no,  that  won't 
quite  do.  Marguite,  I  see,  has  been  representing 
me  as  a  suffering  victim.  But  let  me  tell  you, 
child,  I've  been  my  own  worst  enemy  ;  and  in 
taking  Jean,  instead  of  me,  little  Anne — " 

^' Broke  her  word  and  your  heart,"  Fran5oise 
said  impetuously,  hanging  her  head  as  if  the 
shame  of  the  confession  were  her  own. 

*'  Neitlier  the  one  nor  the  other  :  'Men  have 
died  and  worms  have  eaten  them — '  you  know 
enough  English  to  fill  out  the  rest  of  that  truism  ? 
Little  Anne's  word  to  me  was  broken  long  before, 
when  her  people  overruled  her  with  a  high  hand, 
and  married  her  off  to  Smith's  money-bags.  Aft- 
erward, when  my  mother  fancied  the  rich  young 
widow  would  make  even  a  better  match  for  me 
than  the  little  Thibodeau  would  have  been,  and 


A  LITTLE   MAID   OF  ACADIE. 


163 


h'tele. 
3  grew 

,  more 
an  im- 
ne  lias 
st  ever 
,te  who 
•e  good 
le  ene- 


t  w^on't 

3sentiug 

ell  you, 

and  in 

;an5oise 
if  the 

en  have 
»u  know 
truism  ? 

before, 
rh  hand, 
rs.  Aft- 
|h  young 

for  me 


jen. 


and 


brought  her  to  revisit  us,  it  was  not  to  be  sup- 
posed that  the  old  pledge  would  hold,  liowevcr 
it  might  in  my  motlier's  imagination  and  ]\Iar- 
guite's.  This  time  she  met  Jean,  who  before 
had  been  away  at  college  ;  for  you  know  he  was 
younger  than  L  And  just  as  I  flattered  myself  I 
was  winning  her —  I  was  disappointed  at  the 
time,"  he  broke  off.  "  Furiously  disappointed  at 
the  time,  Frank,  I  own  it  to  you  ;  I  flung  away 
from  home  in  an  angry  outburst  my  mother 
never  forgot.  But  disappointed  is  the  word,  not 
broken-hearted.  And  Anne  was  right  :  Jean's 
love  was  better  worth  her  having  than  such  a 
thing  as  mine.  A  paltry  thing,  that  could  not 
even  keep  me  from  going  wrong,  with  the  mem- 
ory of  a  sweet  woman  like  that." 

He  had  been  speaking  in  a  superficial,  almost 
careless  way,  which  seemed  in  keeping  with  the 
whole  man.  Now,  as  if  something  deeper  stirred 
for  a  breathing-space  the  shallow  nature,  his  voice 
fell  so  that  the  girl  pressed  his  arm. 

"  I  am  sure  you  did  not  go  far  wrong.  Uncle 
Frank." 

He  started  a  little,  and  brought  his  absent 
gaze  back  from  the  wooded  horizon  to  the  small, 
fair  head  almost  nestling  against  him. 

"  Farther  than  I  would  have  you  know  of,  child. 
But  you  must  understand,  once  for  all  (for  I've 
come  many  a  mile  now  that  you  should  under- 


t 


^ 


1G4 


A  LITTLE  MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


stand  it),  that  it  was  never  little  Anne's  short- 
coming that  drove  me  there.  And,  on  the  other 
hand,  it  was  not  my  fault,"  he  added,  "  that  my 
mother  quarreled  with  Jean.  I  was  off  before 
that.  There  must  have  been  some  coureur  dcs 
hois  away  back  in  those  early  Acadian  days  ;  some 
wildness  of  the  blood  that  flowed  in  through  the 
La  Tour  veins  to  us  De  Landremonts.  For  I  was 
never  quite  content  until  I  had  broken  bonds, 
away  out  of  hearing  of  a  sound  from  home.  The 
gold-fever  was  then  at  its  height,  and  rumors  of 
the  California  wonders  had  reached  even  here.  It 
was  not  the  gold,  but  the  novelty  of  it  all,  that 
intoxicated  me.  I  went  out  there  ;  but  had  drifted 
half-Wiiy  East  at  the  time  the  war  between  tlic 
States  broke  out — " 

*'  Oh,  I  remember,  Uncle  Frank  !  Just  after  It 
was  all  over,  you  came  to  us  at  Liverpool  :  small 
as  I  was,  I  can  recollect  your  battle-stories  and 
adventures.  I  used  to  wonder  why  you  didn't 
still  wear  a  sword,  and  pistols  in  your  boots,  as 
you  told  us  the — what  did  you  call  them  ? — bush- 
whackers I — did.  Oh,  you  see  I  have  forgotten 
nothing !  " 

"  Remembering  so  much,  little  maid,  you 
ought  to  remember  more  :  that  the  mother  and  I 
met  as  sister  and  brother  then,  and  not  as  ene- 
mies. It  was  because  we  did  so  meet,  that  my 
mother  refused  to  receive  me  at  home  afterward. 


A  LITTLE  MAID  OF  ACADIB. 


1G5 


She  had  quarreled  with  Jean  and  liis  wife  on  my 
account  :  she  could  not  forgive  me  for  deserting 
my  own  standard  ;  and  that  I  should  have  cared 
to  fight  in  a  war  between  the  States — should  act- 
ually have  entered  the  army  in  Missouri,  Anno 
Thibodeau's  old  home — it  was  altogetlier  an  of- 
fense so  great,  that  nothing  would  atone,  but  my 
turning  my  back  on  what  she  called  the  Madame 
Jean  faction." 

"  Poor  grandmamma  !"  the  girl  said,  softly. 

De  Landremont  stopped,  and  looked  at 
her. 

"  Eh  ?  Well,  perhaps  you  are  right.  But  I 
had  forgotten  to  be  sorry  for  her.  I  had  been 
away  so  long,  it  only  needed  that  bitter  letter  of 
hers,  received  at  Liverpool,  to  drive  me  out  a 
wanderer  again.  And  whether  I  should  ever  have 
come  back,  if  I  had  not  met  my  old  friend  Ken- 
dal the  other  day  in  St.  Louis — " 

**  Your — old — friend  ?  And  he  heard  me  speak 
of  Uncle  Frank,  and  never  told  me  that  he  knew 
him  ! " 

"  He  never  knew  me  as  De  Landremont. 
When  first  I  went  away,  in  my  disgust  I  left  be- 
hind me  everything  that  bound  me  to  the  past. 
We  fought  shoulder  to  shoulder  through  a  long 
campaign,  and  he  knew  nothing  earlier  in  my 
life  than  its  California  episode.  From  what  ho 
heard  from  you  and  others  here,  he  began  to  sus- 


16G 


A   LITTLE   MAID   OF  ACADIE. 


pect  the  identity  of  Frank  Latour  with  Frank 
La  Tour  de  Landremont ;  and  from  that  moment 
he  set  to  work  to  trace  me  throngh  old  army 
friends.     The  other  day — that  is,  ten  days  or  two 


weeks  ago- 


-business  of   his  own,  in  connection 


with  getting  back  his  confiscated  estate,  took  him 
to  St.  Louis,  where  I  came  to  meet  him,  having 
heard  of  liis  search  for  me.  He  told  me  some- 
thing of  his  story  ;  and  perhaps  I  guessed  at  more, 
my  little  maid,"  De  Landremont  added,  smiling 
down  on  her  significantly.  *^  It  was  then  that  I 
learned  from  him  all  about  this  unfortunate  mis- 
conception of  yours ;  and  I  thought  the  shortest 
way  to  lay  that  ugly  bogey  forever,  was  just  to 
come  back  with  him." 

"  Uncle  Frank,  0  Uncle  Frank,  if  you  had 
come  back  to  grandmamma  before  it  was  too 
late  ! " 

How  the  child  must  have  loved  the  grand- 
mother !  She  was  so  white,  and  the  small  hands 
holding  by  his  arm  shook  so  !  De  Landremont 
was  touched  by  her  agitation. 

*'  But  it  would  always  have  been  too  late,  little 
maid.  My  poor  dear  mother — rest  her  soul  I "  he 
put  in  piously—"  would  have  nothing  by  halves. 
To  come  back  and  settle  down  in  the  house  she 
had  built  for  me  on  a  strip  of  the  old  farm ;  to 
speculate  a  trifle  in  lumber  ;  to  dabble  a  little  in 
I)olitics  ;  to  be  returned,  perhaps,  as  French  mem. 


A  LITTLE   MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


107 


bor  of  the  provincial  Piirliament — such  a  career, 
Ileaven  save  the  mark  !  —  in  place  of  that  of 
cattle-king,  silver- king,  American  citizen,  and 
might-be  senator — and  who  knows  what  there- 
after, if  Jack  of  clubs  should  turn  out  the  right 
bower  ?  Eh,  little  maid,  I'm  afraid  you  don't 
quite  understand,"  ho  said,  catching  her  puzzled 
glance.  "But  this  you  will  :  that  even  the  Ma- 
dame Jean  affair  would  have  been  easier  for  the 
dear  old  mother  to  forgive,  than  my  bright  little 
western  American  wife  and  couple  of  small  na- 
tive Americans  that  are  stubborn  facts  not  to 
be  blinked.  You  must  make  acquaintance  with 
them  all,  one  of  these  days,  my  little  maid  of 
Acadie." 

Frank  did  not  answer.  Iler  heart  was  too 
full.  She  seemed  to  be  looking  at  that  lowly 
grave  on  the  hill-side.  If  he  had  come  back  to  see 
that — to  cast  himself  face  downward  on  the  sod, 
praying,  striving  that  some  breath  of  his  loving 
duty  might  yet  reach  his  mother  in  the  place  of 
shades  ! 

That,  she  could  have  understood  :  not  this 
breezy,  easy-going  man  of  the  world,  with  his 
mild  regrets  for  what  had  happened,  and  his  so 
ready  owning  to  faults,  that  confession  and  atone- 
ment seemed  much  the  same  thing  in  his  mind. 

And  for  years  she  had  been  making  a  tragedy 
out  of  this  comedy  I 


":  ■! 


^  i 


108 


A  LITTLE  MAID   OF  ACADIE. 


*'Poor  grandmamma!"  she   said   to  herself 


again. 


She  was  not  listening  to  De  Landremont's 
next  words  ;  which,  indeed,  were  rather  in  pur- 
suance of  his  own  train  of  thought  than  for  her. 
Jean's  family  should  have  it  all — the  old  home- 
place,  the  estate  which  in  Fran5ois  de  Landre- 
mont's enlarged  vision  was  the  merest  bagatelle. 
Franyoisc,  stumbling  on  at  his  side,  and  think- 
ing over  and  over,  '*Poor  grandmamma!"  was 
brought  back  to  the  present  by  the  voice  of  Dallas 
Fraser,  who  stood  still,  a  few  yards  in  advance. 

"  That  black  streak  on  the  lake  is  a  canoe, 
and  that  speck  farther  over  yonder  is  another. 
Can  the  messenger  I  sent  have  come  already  upon 
a  party  in  search  of  us  ?  " 

A  few  moments,  and  the  foremost  of  the  ca- 
noes had  run  up  to  the  bank,  and  the  guide  was 
helping  his  one  passenger  ashore. 

"  Marie  ! " 

Franyoise  ran  forward,  glad  for  an  instant  to 
escape  from  the  eyes  of  the  men,  who  followed 
more  slowly. 

"  Marie  !   I  did  not  think  yon  would  come  so 


soon. 


j> 


"  My  dear  child  !  it  has  been  long  enough  to 
me,  I  can  assure  you.  How  much  longer  it  might 
have  been,  if  we  had  not,  in  our  wandering  search 
for  you,  met  your  messenger — '* 


A  LITTLE  MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


109 


rran9oiso  had  drawn  her  forward. 

*'Uuclc  Frank — Dr.  Kendal — this  is  my  sister 
Marie—" 

*'John!" 

It  was  Marie's  voice  that  cut  her  sliort. 

With  a  flutter  of  her  two  white  hands  out- 
stretched, Marie  had  turned  to  Kendal. 

**  John,  Jolin,  have  you  forgotten  me  ?" 

He  stood  staring  at  her,  like  a  man  half  roused 
in  the  midst  of  a  dream. 

She  was  brilliant,  there  in  tho  waning  light ; 
no  vision  of  a  dream  could  be  brighter.  But  what 
is  that  to  Kendal  ?  Just  so  a  man  might  look 
who  sees  a  ghost. 

And  then  she  smiled.  She  was  beautiful  be- 
fore ;  but  now  her  beauty  was  bewildering.  She 
came  a  pace  nearer  to  him. 

'•  Have  you  never  a  word  of  welcome  for  me, 
John?" 

lie  drew  a  long,  hard  breath,  passing  his 
hand  heavilv  over  his  eves.  He  never  once 
glanced  Fran9oise's  way,  though  somehow  she 
felt  he  saw  her  all  the  while.  He  answered 
slowly  : 

"  How  is  it  you  are  not  dead,  Mary  ?  For 
twelve  years  you  have  allowed  me  to  believe  you 
were." 

She  glanced  from  him  to  the  bystanders, 
shrugging  her  shoulders. 


i^i 


II 


170 


A   LITTLE  MAID  OF   ACADIE. 


"  Can  we  not  wait  to  go  into  all  that  until  wo 
arc  alone  ?"  she  said,  lowering  her  voice. 

But  he  answered  sternly  : 

**  I  have  done  with  secrets.  It  is  late  to  say 
it ;  but  at  least  I  will  have  none  of  them  now. 
If  you  are  my  wife — " 

Marie — her  face  glowing  and  brilliant  v/ith 
what  old  Marguite  called  her  ^^  bcaute  dujcohUy^^ 
which  made  naught  of  those  twelve  years,  and 
changed  her  almost  into  the  girl  of  barely  seven- 
teen, whom  Kendal  well  remembered— Mariu  was 
turning  now  from  Kendal  to  where  Fran9oisc  and 
Dallas  had  drawn  insensibly  together,  standing  on 
the  outside  of  this  scene  ;  and  De  Landremont, 
not  without  a  certain  twinkle  of  expectancy  in  his 
eyes,  as  at  the  anticipated  hit  of  a  well-known 
actress  in  a  new  role^  was  looking  curiously  over 
Franyoise's  shoulder. 

"Ah,  is  that  you,  monsieur  Fran9ois  ?"  Ma- 
rie nodded  at  him  gayly.  "I  always  knew  some 
day  you  woiild  reappear.  The  hour  for  les  rcve- 
nants,  is  it  not  so  ?  Though  I  planned  my  com- 
ing back  from  the  dead  after  a  more  romantic 
fashion,  befitting  the  old  story,"  she  said,  her 
eyes  alive  with  mocking  spirits.  "  Only,  you  see, 
John  will  bring  me  down  to  the  blunt  facts. 
When  I  proposed  to  mamma  to  come  back  from 
Europe  for  Frank,  instead  of  sending  for  her,  it 
was  because  the  child's  letters  were  full  of  a  cer- 


A  LITTLE   MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


171 


tain  Dr.  John  Kendal,  of  whom  I  had  lost  sight, 
but  whom  I  was  sure  1  recognized,  though  I  had 
not  seen  him  since  my  school-girl  days  in  St. 
Louis.  I  fancied  if  we  met  again,  it  might  be  as 
old  friends — lovers,  perhaps — " 

The  dark  look  on  Kendal's  face  cut  her  short. 

^^  Only,  you  see — "  she  said  again,  "John 
will  bring  me  down  to  the  blunt  fact  that  every 
man  has  a  skeleton  in  his  closet.  I  present  you 
to  John's." 

She  made  a  sweeping  courtesy  as  she  spoke. 
"  He  thought  it  was  laid  away  underground. 
Perhaps  he  has  told  you,  Frank,  of  his  foolish 
marriage  with  a  school-girl,  when  he  was  a  young 
medical  student  in  St.  Louis,  on  the  eve  of  mak- 
ing his  way  South  into  the  army  ?  Oh,  it  was 
foolish,  very.  I  think,  even  at  such  an  age,  I 
should  have  seen  that,  if  it  had  not  been  for  my 
romantic  Elise  (my  maid,  you  know,  Frank),  who 
aided  and  abetted  the  whole  affair.  I  wrote  you 
what  I  thought  of  it,  you  remember,  John,  when 
I  lay,  as  every  one  believed,  ill  unto  death,  a  few 
months  later." 

*' I  remember."  Kendal's  face  was  stern  and 
set.  That  death-bed  letter  was  safe  never  to  be 
forgotten.  There  were  sentences  in  it  which  he 
could  have  repeated,  word  for  word,  even  now  : 
"It  is  well  I  am  dying — wretched  girl,  trapped 
into  a  marriage  that  can  mean  nothing  but  mis- 


1  i 


;H  ? 


172 


A  LITTLE   MAID   OF  ACADIE. 


cry !  You  were  older  than  I  :  you  should  have 
known  better.  Perhaps  you  did  know,  John 
Kendal.  Perhaps,  bent  as  you  were  on  going 
South,  you  counted  on  my  fortune  when  your 
own  should  bo  confiscated  ?  And  now  my  guar- 
dian has  lost  mine  for  me — and  it  is  as  well  I  am 
dying — " 

"  It  was  a  lie,  then  !  "  Kendal  said  between  his 
set  teeth. 

"Yes."  ^larie  jmt  up  a  deprecating  hand. 
''But  not  mine,  John.  You  remember  Elise  ? 
She  is  still  with  me  ;  such  a  clever  soul —  But 
too  clcYcr  for  once,"  she  corrected  herself.  ''You 
see,  she  was  romantic,  as  I  said  :  she  pictured  to 
herself  the  terrible  suspense  the  poor  young  gen- 
tleman would  have  to  bear,  and  the  months  and 
months  before  another  letter  could  get  through 
the  lines  to  him.  And  so,  when  the  ojiportunity 
came  to  send  this  one,  and  I  was  lying  between 
life  and  death,  she  added  her  little  postscript, 
which  said  this  was  the  last  day  of  her  poor  young 
lady's  life,  and  the  dear  angel's  last  words  were 
to  send  monsieur  this  lock  of  her  beautiful 
hair." 

Marie  said  it  with  a  mocking  ring  in  her  voice, 
which  showed  she  was  quoting  Elise. 

"And  so  I  died;  and  then  I  went  abroad. 
For  one  must  die,  must  not  one,  to  go  to  para- 
dise ?    Mamma  and  my  good  step-father,  Frank's 


A   LITTLE   MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


173 


fatlicr  (you  never  lieard  mc  speak  of  them,  John, 
for  my  Smith  kindred  liad  frightened  mo  with 
that  bogey  of  a  step-father),  sent  for  mo  to  Kuropo 
when  my  fortune  was  lost ;  and  of  course  sucli  a 
prospect  wai  enough  to  keep  a  girl  from  dying 
outright." 

There  was  an  utter  silence  for  a  moment. 

Mario  broke  it,  turning,  with  one  of  her 
charming  smiles,  to  Kendal. 

"  Have  I  sinned  past  forgiveness,  John  ?  The 
doing  of  it  was  not  mine.  As  for  the  undoing — 
Elise  never  told  me  of  her  postscript  until  wo 
were  on  the  other  side  of  the  ocean.  And  then  I 
had  lost  all  trace  of  you.  The  first  I  heard,  you 
had  been  captured  on  the  battle-field  ;  imprisoned, 
I  could  not  tell  where.  I  was  vouna:  and  incx- 
perienccd  ;  poor  Elise  was  always  at  my  elbow, 
begging  me  not  to  betray  her  and  have  licr  Sv-^nt 
adrift  into  the  world.  When  at  last  Frank,  writ- 
ing freely  to  me,  after  the  old  lady's  death,  often 
mentioned  you,  it  was  I  who  planned  that  we 
should  come  for  the  child  ourselves,  instead  of 
sending  for  her.  I  thought  I  should  see  for  my- 
self if  it  were  really  John  ! " 

She  had  put  her  hands  together,  looking  up 
at  him  pleadingly. 

But  Kendal's  face  was  set  as  a  flint. 

"And  as  a  preliminary  step,"  he  said — ''it 
was  you,  then,  who  had  the  jmpers  sent  me,  show- 


i 


i 


174 


A   LITTLE  MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


ing  that  by  a  little  effort  on  my  part  I  could  re- 
cover my  lost  fortune  ?  I  am  sorry  I  could  not 
have  guessed  the  sender.  I  am  sorry  my  journey 
has  been  successful.  It  was  nolhing  to  you  that 
I  should  chafe  myself  near  to  death  in  prison — 
that,  escaping  to  Canada  just  before  the  war  end- 
ed, I  should  spend  weary  years  in  poverty  and 
friendlessness.  But  as  soon  as  the  tide  of  fortune 
turns — " 

'•'Mais,  monsieur  le  docteur,  mon  huomme — " 

The  voice  behind  him,  breaking  in  on  him, 
was  that  of  Lafo rest's  patient  wife. 

"My  man  is  restless,  monsieur  ;  there  is  no 
keeping  him  still  since  Jean  has  told  him  mon- 
sieur ]q  docteur  is  come." 

Without  a  word,  Kendal  turned  on  his  heel 
and  followed  the  woman  indoors. 

No  one  spoke  at  first ;  his  swift  step  echoed  in 
the  stillness,  on  the  gravelly  slope. 

Then  Marie,  rather  pale,  but  with  a  resolute 
gleam  in  her  eyes,  faced  round  on  the  three  stand- 
ing together. 

"You  have  a  homely  saying,  Fran5oise,  that 
one  may  not  hope  to  save  the  liare  and  the  cab- 
bages. Yet  that  is  what  I  am  going  to  do,"  she 
said,  with  a  gay  little  nod  of  defiance  to  Dame 
Fortune,  who,  with  a  turn  of  her  wheel,  had 
made  the  task  so  much  more  difficult  than  Mario 
had  expected.      "As  we  are  all  en  famille — " 


M^. 


A   LITTLE   MAID   OF   ACADIE. 


1  (O 


witli  a  covert  glance  at  J3alla3  Eraser — "  I  may  as 
v/cU  say  that,  now  the  clioux  arc  safe,  I  shall  de- 
vote my  attention  to  the  lievre.''^ 

De  Landremont  made  an  impatient  move- 
ment. 

''  Take  care  what  you  are  about,  ]\larie  !  Ken- 
dal is  no  dull  creature,  to  be  caught  in  a  springe. 
If  you  don't  know  a  man  when  you  see  one,  let 
me  tell  you  what  he  is.  The  bravest  comrade  a 
man  ever  fought  side  by  side  with,  in  the  ranks ; 
the  gentlest  soul  to  pain  and  suffering  of  others ; 
the  stoutest  heart  to  bear  his  own — " 

To  Frank,  half  putting  out  her  hand  with  a 
rush  of  sympathy  toward  the  speaker  :  then  let- 
ting it  fall,  in  a  sudden  sense  of  -<hamo  that  only 
through  another's  witne-  did  she  know  this 
friend  of  hers  at  last — to  Frank,  in  a  vivid  11a. -h 
of  memory,  came  back  a  certain  passage  which 
Kendal  himself  had  read  to  her  one  winter  even- 
ing, out  of  an  old-time  b«3ok,  for  which  he  ha  i 
sent  away.  She  was  startled  by  Marie's  vo  e ,' 
demurely  taking  up  De  Landremont's  tone  : 

*'  'A  svi  Launcelot,  ther  thou  lyest,  that  were 
head  of  all  crysten  kn3'ghte3  !  And  thou  were 
neuer  ;r,  tr^hed  of  none  erthly  knyghtes  hands. 
And  thou  were  the  curtoyste  knyghte  that  euer 
bare  shelde.  And  thou  were  the  truest  frend  to 
thy  louer  that  euer  bestradde  hors,  and  thou  were 
the  truest  louer  of  a  svnfuU  man  that  euer  loued 


1 


17C 


A    LITTLE   MAID   OF  ACADIB. 


woman.  And  thou  were  the  kyndest  man  that 
euei  stroke  with  swcrde.  And  thou  were  the 
mekest  man  and  tlic  gontyllest  that  euer  ete  in 
halle  anionge  ladyes.  And  thou  were  the  sternest 
knyglite  to  thy  mortall  I'oo  that  cuyr  put  spere  in 
the  reyst.'  " 

''I  got  it  hy  heart,  you  sec,"  she  added,  liglit- 
ly — ''in  those  old  days  when  I  was  an  apt  pupil, 
and  John  a  young  enthusiast,  wlio  would  have 
me  admire  his  heroes,  not  foreseeing  he  would  ho 
duhbed  Sir  Launcelot  himself.  But  only  see, 
while  we  stand  here  romancing,  yonder  comes 
the  hatcau  across  the  lake,  with  Arsene  in 
it!" 

On  the  mention  of  Arsene,  Do  T>iindremont 
strolled  down  to  the  bank,  half  expectant,  and 
more  than  half  glad  of  the  break  in  a  scjne  which 
was  to  him  ratlier  embarrassing,  though  Marie 
did  not  seem  to  find  it  so. 

"  Mrs.  Osborne  is  with  Ars(^ne  ;  but  )'ou  see  I 
did  not  wait  for  a  chaperon,"  she  went  en,  mock- 
ingly, "but  hurried  on  with  the  guide,  when  he 
told  me  my  husband  was  sent  for,  to  a  wounded 
man  here.  Perhaps  the  wounded  man  will  be 
the  better  for  a  nurse  as  well  as  a  doctor.  So  I 
shall  stay  to  see  what  I  can  do  to  help  the  doctor. 
— Cousin  Dallas,  you  will  take  Frank  out  in  the 
canoe  to  meet  the  others,  and  turn  them  back 
with  you  to  the  camp.     And  you  can  tell  them 


A  LITTLE   ALVID  OF  AC  A  DIE. 


177 


sec  I 

lock- 
L  he 
idcd 

ill  be 
So  I 

)ctor. 

n  the 
back 
them 


better  than  Frank,  what  has  happened  :  the  hap- 
py meeting  that  lias  taken  place  ;  odd  bit  of  melo- 
drama out  of  real  life.  Explain  it  all  for  me, 
there's  a  good  brother." 

She  broke  off  abrui)tly,  tlirowing  up  her  hands 
with  a  deprecating  gesture,  as  if  she  had  used  that 
word  inadvertently. 

And  so,  indeed,  FranQoise  supposed  she 
had. 

But  there  was  a  twinkle  in  Dallas  Frascr's 
eyes,  as  if  he  saw  through  the  pretense.  lie  re- 
joined at  once  : 

*' Your  brother  indeed,  if  Frank  will  have  it 
so.  She  has  not  told  me ;  though  I  have  asked 
her,  and  am  still  waiting  for  my  answer." 

He  had  turned  to  Frank,  holding  out  his  hand. 

When,  flushed  and  downcast,  she  made  no 
movement  to  meet  it,  he  took  hers  with  gentle 
force,  and  drew  it  in  his  arm. 

Marie  stood  and  looked  at  them,  a  faint  smile 
veiling  certain  bitter  lines  about  her  mouth. 
Then,  ''Bless  you,  my  children  !  "  she  said,  gay- 
ly,  waving  them  a  stage-benediction  ;  and  flitted 
from  them  into  the  cottage. 

For  a  long  moment,  Franjoisc  never  moved, 

her  eyes  flxed   on   the  doorway  through  which 

her  sister  had   vanished.      Then   with   a  shiver 

her    fingers    closed    unconsciously    on    Dallas's 

arm. 

12 


178 


A   LITTLE  MAID  OF  ACADIE. 


"  How  can  we  go  away,  and  leave — them — so  ? 
And  yet—" 

She  was  tliinkingof  monsieur  Ic  docteur.  And 
yet  must  it  not  be  better  she  should  go  ? 

Dallas  decided  the  question  for  her. 

De  Landremont  was  already  paddling  off  to 
meet  Arsene,  in  the  pirogue  which  had  brought 
Marie.  Without  further  loss  of  time,  Dallas 
pushed  off  his  canoe  into  the  water,  and  lifted 
Frank  in. 

"  Your  sister  is  a  very  clever  woman,  my  dar- 
ling ;  we  must  leave  it  to  her.  One  of  these  days, 
sweetheart,  you  will  know  it  never  docs  to  inter- 
vene between  husband  and  wife." 

Nevertheless,  he  was  very  slow  in  moving  off 
from  shore  ;  dipping  his  paddle  idly  in  the  water, 
and  lingering  there  in  full  view  from  the  cot- 
tage. 

Suddenly  in  the  open  doorway,  with  the  moon- 
light shining  down  on  them,  and  the  glow  of  the 
heartli-fire  making  a  bright  background,  Marie 
and  Kendal  appeared.  She  was  leaning  with  one 
hand  on  his  arm,  the  other  flattering  her  hand- 
kerchief in  gay  farewell. 

Almost  a  word  had  done  it. 

"That  child,  John — she  stood  staring  after 
me  as  if  she  expected  a  bit  of  spider-and-fly  busi- 
ness when  I  ventured  in  to  you.  Can  not  you 
manage  —  (she  says  you  have  been  so  good  to 


A   LITTLE   MAID  OF   ACADIE. 


179 


her !) — to  give  her  a  cheerful  send-off,  by  way 
of  happy  omen  ?  She  is  just  engaged  to  Dalhis 
Fraser. " 

So,  without  word  or  ghmce,  and  with  a  face 
as  set  as  death,  he  followed,  and  let  Marie  act  her 
little  farce  with  hira  by  way  of  puppet. 

Would  it  always  be  a  farce — a  tragedy  ?  or  a 
mere  comedy  of  modern  life,  in  which  the  tragedy 
is  so  well  masked  that  no  one  need  suspect  the 
grim  traits  underneath  ? 


Out  there,  before  they  reach  the  path  of  moon- 
light on  the  lake,  Dallas  turns  round  on  Frank. 

*'It  is  he  who  is  the  hero,"  he  says. 

*'  Head  of  all  crysten  knights,  and  never 
matched  by  earthly  knight's  hands.  But,  Frank 
— the  truest  lover  of  a  sinful  man,  that  over  loved 
woman  ! " 

A  sudden  dimness  gathers  in  the  girl's  eyes  ; 
but  they  do  not  fall  under  his  own. 

Dallas  shifts  his  paddle  into  his  left  hand,  and 
reaches  out  his  right  for  Frank's. 

"They'll  bo  upon  us  in  another  moment — 
those  people  yonder — and  yet  you  have  not  told 
me  if  you  love  me,  Frank  ?  " 

How  fair  she  looks,  with  that  soft  shining  on 
her  bright,  uncovered  head,  as  a  sudden  current 
sweeps  them  on  into  the  moon's  path.  Lighted  up 
so,  they  are  in  full  view  from  the  other  canoes. 


180 


A   LITTLE   MAID   OF   ACADIE. 


Dallas,  with  an  air  of  disgust,  grips  his  paddle 
again  ;  and  Franyoise  is  half  glad  of  the  respite 
for  to-night— until  she  catches  sight  of  his  face. 

Then  she  leans  forward  slightly,  as  she  trails 
her  hand  in  the  water  : 

"  Have  I  not,  Dallas  ?  "  she  says. 


THE  END. 


#» 


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